VIRTUALIS MUNDI
by innovare
Summary: A routine mission comes apart when a mysterious device transports Jack away to a place filled with confusion and deception. Everything is the wrong way around and his nightmares threaten to consume him. Will Jack persevere, whilst his team pursues an unknown enemy? Or will he surrender?
1. Chapter 1 - Deserted Planet

(Updated 23/08/2017)

 **Copyright: existing characters belong to MGM and the creators of the Stargate Franchise. Story written for fan fiction.**

 **Autho** **r: lezaanv**

 **Summary** a routine mission comes apart when a mysterious device transports Jack away to a place filled with confusion and deception. Everything is the wrong way around and his nightmares threaten to consume him. Will Jack persevere, whilst his team pursues an unknown enemy? Or will he surrender?

 **Characters** **: Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c**

 **Story takes place in season 7 after Heroes Part 2 and before The Lost City Part One**

 **Episode Tags from season 01 through to season 07** **: Emancipation, Message in a Bottle, Into the Fire, The Other Side, Desperate Measures, Unnatural Selection, Death Knell and Heroes Part 2.**

 **(Thoughts and interpretation of abovementioned episodes, belong to the author. The settings and everything pertaining to Stargate SG1 belong to MGM.)**

 **Warning** **: for sensitive readers, suicide will be touched upon in Chapter 2.**

 **Please be advised** **: story has not been beta'd. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. They are unfortunately mine.**

 **Let's begin, shall we?**

* * *

 **Prelude: Deserted Planet**

As Colonel O'Neill combed the landscape through tinted specs, the scene gradually opened to that of a wasteland rippling over the expanse of the horizon. Sun baked rocks show cased years of wear and tear, while heat waves rose in accordance.

A hot breeze drove scattered alien tumbleweeds through jagged formations. Whilst half-dead shrubberies coated the rugged terrain in splotches here and there. It was the only colour to speak of within the vast desert canvas.

The Gate, in addition to his team SG1, stood on a plateau that stretched from the east through north and ended to the west. Thirty meters to the south, a crude path moved in between a cluster of smooth boulders, and then disappeared into a hundred meter width ravine.

With luck, its walls would provide the necessary shade from the scorching sun.

"How long are we to spend on this hotplate?" Jack O'Neill asked irritated.

His eyes connected with those of Major Samantha Carter, the team's second-in-command.

"Approximately, two to three hours. Depends on what we find, Sir."

She spoke softly, her blues eyes transfixed on the device in her left hand.

"Yeah, if the heat doesn't melt us first." O'Neill scoffed. "Alright, you know what to do. Let's move out." He commanded as he pointed in the direction of the ravine.

"Jack . . ." The archaeologist called, peering at his friend through circular spectacles, ". . . I think the Stargate releases some sort of . . . . complaint spell. If it isn't the abundance of trees, it's the temperature. And if that isn't enough, you bicker about advancing Jaffa or the lack of alien presence."

The Colonel halted in stride, and scowled at Dr Jackson.

Major Carter shook her head in response, joined the fourth member of the group, Teal'c, and headed for the path O'Neill had observed earlier.

"I do not." Jack replied, scrutinizing the innocent looking archaeologist.

"You do too." Daniel chided playfully.

"Do not."

"Do too." Ignoring his whining retort, Dr Jackson followed behind Teal'c.

"Daniel." The Colonel exclaimed annoyed, pointing after him. "So help me, if you start a bicker at a time like this, I swear I'll shoot ya."

"What will you tell General Hammond?"

Jackson's baby blues sparkled with humour as he asked over his shoulder.

The Colonel's lips quirked into a wicked smile, Daniel halting mid-stride.

"Oh, you wouldn't." He declared appalled.

Slowly but surely Jack's smug smile grew, until the Jaffa called out.

"Daniel Jackson . . ."

O'Neill moved around him, and then headed in Teal'c's direction, smiling deviously as he did so. Behind him, Daniel turned on his heels, and clearly dissatisfied, moved at a slow pace, hands in his pockets as he scanned the surroundings.

A few meters to their left, Sam peered over a nearby boulder, smiling as if she had discovered the perfect toy. With only her blue eyes and short blonde hair sticking out, she conveyed what she had found.

"We have some translations over here."

At the mention, sheer wonder lined Daniel's facial features, who practically jaunted from his position towards them. The Colonel rolled his eyes in response, casually strolling after his sprinting friend, and upon arrival, the team formed a semi-circle. The two Doctors completely enthralled with the discovery. It did not take long for Jack's favourite geeks to get lost in a finding, thus he ignored their scientific discussions, and turned towards the ravine's entrance. Searing to memory the terrain for later strategy if need be.

For a desert planet, this area sure seemed lavish in comparison.

* * *

 **Chapter One:** ** Discovery**

 _Samantha's perspective:_

With scanner in hand, Major Carter studied a peculiar shaped rock pedestal, about ten meters away from Dr Jackson's current location. She had surmised it to be a power source, due to its shape and appearance that clearly differentiated it from the other formations. However, she could not seem to find a way into the pedestal itself.

"Danny." Major Carter called out, trying to draw her friend's attention over to her discovery.

"Mmm . . ." Daniel softly hummed, oblivious to the distance between them.

"I'm detecting a faint signature over here. Is there anything in the translations that might help me with my analyses?"

As no response came, Sam took a few steps back and thoughtfully gazed at the unusual dais. It had a one and half metre flat surface, and underneath it, stood a three-meter rectangular pillar, reminding her of a peg drilled into the dirt. It was perfect in its appearance regardless of the beating sun. Nothing indicated that it possessed a console or any other mode of access. Which left her with the only other conclusion: to search for a concealed panel.

She walked forward, and searched meticulously for any variance in the pedestal's surface, until she discovered what she was looking for. Underneath, where the flat surface connected with the pillar, in its centre, was a fracture that formed a perfect square. Something that was too distinct to be termed as natural.

The finding elicited a curious attraction, and before she discerned it, her slender fingers had pressed down on the square.

A humming sound resonated around her, followed shortly by the baritone exclamation of her friend. The Major raised her P-90 in defence, while her eyes dutifully scanned the immediate area, until she found Teal'c with Zat gun directed towards the mouth of the canyon.

* * *

 _Dr Jackson's perspective:_

Upon first notice, the inscriptions appeared as if someone had handled it like an ancient stone tablet. The words moved from left to right covering a one-metre space in width and height, and regardless of the thousands of years that had gone by, they remained remarkably intact and visible to the naked eye.

 _A fascinating piece of artistry, I must say. Delicate, simplistic, yet beautifully elegant, this person knew his craft._

"It's a derivative of Latin." Daniel announced without lifting his gaze.

"Ancient?" Carter asked, the only one nearby.

He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, before replying. "Ah, yes, I believe so."

Sam Carter's retreating boots, and the world around him faded away, while his eyes darted from left to right, mind translating the Ancient writings in swift progression. The first set had detailed information about the people who once had lived here and how they had coped with its fearsome weather.

The next set spoke of a _virtualis mundi_ created to escape the weather. Eventually, after a few hundred years, the race decided to leave it behind in order to search for a better world.

After examining the second section a few times, their reason for the evacuation still bothered the Doctor – they were in dire need of change. A dilemma he understood, since a virtual world could go so far.

Drifting back to reality, the archaeologist lifted his head and sought out the rest of his team. He caught sight of Sam, who was busy examining a dais mentioned in the second part of the Ancient writings. Then, his gaze moved from the Major's position over to the canyon's entrance where Jack and Teal'c presided.

Daniel thought about calling out to them, when a transparent cloak suddenly enveloped the Colonel, whisking him away.

* * *

 _Teal'c and Jack's perspective:_

Teal'c stepped away from the chatting scientists and headed for the place where the path had begun to descend into the valley. Passing O'Neil, he noticed the soldier's scrutinizing features and observed how he scaled a boulder to get a bird's eye view of the terrain.

O'Neill's tactical mind was filtering through different strategies. Selecting the best offensive and defensive manoeuvres, the team could apply when a threat presented itself.

Teal'c too, felt a similar unease, and by experience, he knew that even a peaceful planet as this one had its hidden dangers.

The Jaffa discontinued in stride, whist he scanned the canyon's features. In the background, the sound of Jack's boots colliding with the soil, echoed tediously, he then went on to examine the area surrounding the path, which smoothed out, before adjusting to the incline of the rugged walls as if either nature or human had moulded it.

"Yeah, I saw it too."

"To what are you implying, O'Neill?" His baritone voice reverberated in a gentle manner.

The Colonel took position next to him, and thumbed over his shoulder.

"Back at the Gate, the area revealed a desert terrain. But here it's too green, like something's deliberately blocking the sun from scorching it to death."

"Indeed." Teal'c gazed before him with a neutral expression, "Yet, the MALP indicated no life."

"Uh-huh. Well, we will know soon enough. Just . . . keep your eyes open. Something doesn't sit well."

"As you wish."

The Jaffa bowed his head, watching how the Colonel's gaze panned the horizon, observed how his posture changed from watchful to fascination, and this triggered the previous unease to return.

 _I have never observed this sudden change in behaviour, O'Neill seems induced by some sort of daze._

Teal'c's eyes followed the direction of the Colonel's gaze, eyelids narrowing with the action. A mesmerizing glimmer had caught O'Neill's attention, distracting him from their conversation.

Drawn by a captivating pull, the Colonel allowed his feet to stroll forward, completely enthralled in the moment. A red alert sounded off, whilst his emotions portrayed the danger it posed. Nevertheless, his curious mind desperately sought to uncover the mystery, and before he could withdraw, an electronic vibration enveloped him, and displaced him in a dark and empty space.


	2. Chapter 2 - To be or Not to be

(Updated 23/08/2017)

 **Chapter Two** **: To be or not to be, that is his Question**

The missing gear was the first thing Jack noted, as his feet touched the ground, that and the darkness, which hid his surroundings. A shiver ran down his spine, for he could be anywhere, stuck in some environment with no support, and defenceless. Whereas the enemy had the advantage of a surprise attack, something he simply could not defend against. O'Neill understood his predicament clearly – he was up a creek without a paddle.

He shook free from the reverie and concentrated on the absent gear instead.

"Dang it! I really hate it when that happens."

An abrupt gasp followed as a certain heightened awareness moved through his muscles. Some kind of drug might had been administered without his knowledge. His skin flinched and muscles tightened with excitement and angst. His emotions too were stronger than before. He had to find a way out, had to ignore the chaos gushing inside, had to channel his warrior veneer before the drug transformed him into an unhinged commanding officer.

After a few seconds delay, the Colonel extended his arms and walked forward in search of a wall. His boots waded in two-foot deep water, soaking his socks and feet. A grimace succeeded this, until the lingering weight of his sidearm strapped to his right thigh, suddenly drew his attention. Ignoring the oddity for the moment, Jack trudged on with boiling annoyance.

"For crying out loud!" The soldier exclaimed in a livid manner. "These scouting missions are never easy. Are they? I can't remember a mission ever going to plan."

Successful in his blind pursuit, the wall felt jagged, and moist underneath his fingers. Its temperature sent a shiver running down his spine. Next, he positioned himself into a side stance and moved clockwise, his fingers trailing behind on the uneven surface, while his right hand held on to the holstered sidearm.

"After seven years, one would know that alien planets entail _unknown threat_."

Jack forced himself to relax; however, his senses detested the current predicament vividly, shuddering and flinching like horse flies from its skin.

It was dark, moist, and cold with no light filtering into the space.

 _Oy! This is turning out to be a very bad day. I hate bad days – no evil cliché snakehead to make fun of, no team to annoy – there's some irony for ya._

 _There has to be a way out!_ Jack shouted within.

His fingers suddenly moved over the cold edge of a metal doorframe. Jack used both hands then, until finally, he found the door's elongated handle.

There was a high probability that the door was locked, but it did not withhold him from trying. His heart raced in anticipation, while his fingers curled around the lever. Gently forcing it down, a soft click followed and the door released. Sighing in relief, the Colonel knew it should not have worked, there was simply no way he would be caged like a bird just for the door to be unlocked.

 _Maybe they just forgot to lock their secret entrance to their_ _very_ _secret facility, and decided to go on holiday. Wouldn't it be great? Yeah right, wishful thinking Jack. Nothing off-world is this easy._

 _The General would never have tolerated this negligence. I mean I get scolded for not closing his office door properly. Du'oh! What wouldn't these folks do to me if they caught me in the act?_

Cautiously, he slid it open. Rustic hinges cringed in response shrieking in his ears. Bright daylight gradually streamed into the room, and his forearm moved to shield his eyes upon the sharp glint.

 _This is it! One step for O'Neill, many more for the enemy._

With mustered boldness, he cautiously took a step over the threshold and walked forward into the unknown. Behind him, the door with its frame disappeared into thin air, leaving him amidst a large field.

" _Okay,_ don't know how this is possible Toto, but I'm definitely in Kansas."

The Colonel stood motionless, shocked to find his environment had changed to that of a wide-open region of the Great Plains. Like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, he had been transported from one place to another in a bizarre way. Which he knew was impossible without the use of Thor's beaming technology, the Stargate or Goa'uld Rings.

His eyes combed the broad expanse of the flat land concealed with tall prairie grass. A sickening feeling settled within, while his legs stood ramrod straight. He wanted to move the one foot in front of the other, but from what he'd just witnessed, he was afraid he'd step into another world.

It's not that he appreciated this to the confined space provided by the room, but this environment gave him no comfort . . . at all. His team was MIA – an indicator they were either trapped or they were held somewhere else.

On the other hand, maybe . . . they never succumbed to the same predicament.

Regardless of the outcome, he had to analyse this. Jack could not remain rooted to the spot forever, nor could he risk detection. His mind, however, screamed alien influence or some kind of mind manipulation. Whatever it was, it just was not normal. First instincts told him he needed to find something remotely close to civilization, and then there was the issue about what would happen if he found none.

Little-by-painstaking-little, his feet moved forward. No other signs of life, presented itself for miles on end, fuelling his already bewildered mind.

He could go without food for days. The water was the pressing matter, especially with the heat and uncomfortable trek. He had nothing to navigate with, considering that, there were no clear signs of human or wild alike, to help him figure out where the nearest water supply situated.

Furthermore, and to O'Neill's misery, his beige shirt stuck to his shoulders, chest, and belly – sweat streamed down his body in bucket loads.

He used his shirt's sleeve to wipe the excessive perspiration from his forehead. His hair, nape, and neck would have to get used to being damp, there was nothing else available to rid him of the stickiness. He was lost, alone and frustrated – the only viable truths he could cling to as reality. The rest seemed so unnatural and out of place, it made him stop mid-stride and do another evaluation of his surroundings. Possibly, even think it through, it was certainly a rare occasion, considering that his team would have had conjured theories and possible solutions for this hot-forsaken predicament within seconds of its existence.

"Dammit! Now why did I have to go and think like that?"

He missed them, their prattling voices, and lack thereof.

He, Colonel O'Neill, was the glue that held them together; making sure each member added their share to balance their strengths and to equalize their weaknesses. He may be a sarcastic, irreverent soldier, but his heart went out to those in need of rescue, change, and loyalty. He thought on his feet and presented hope.

Teal'c, ever the stoic warrior and long-suffering friend, constantly prepared for whatever might befall them, remained tight-lipped – only giving one-liners as he deemed it necessary. It was words with enough wisdom to last for a century. Moreover, his presence was soothing and his skills as solid as a rock on and off the battlefield.

Daniel always had a third sense when it came to tracking down either a dead civilization or a living one. Both findings usually got him into trouble, and then SG1 would soon feel the brunt of that misfortune. Jack snorted at the thought. Often the two of them would argue over nothing in particular, until Major Carter stepped in and ruined it with her scientific discoveries. Her doohickeys coupled with her brilliant mind had the notion of getting them out of said trouble.

A faint smile lined the man's lips as the memories of the Air Force Major flooded his mind. She sure was a puzzle herself and he wondered if he could ever solve the mystery behind her scientific babbles.

An unexpected long-lost nostalgia overwhelmed him, while his heart ached a little more than it should. He yearned for her company– apparent, because it was her duty to remain at his side during the duration of a mission, and vital, due to his innocent reliance upon her talents and gifts. Carter's natural flare just had the ability to turn every day into a beautiful day, irrespective of looming danger.

Jack shook his head freeing himself from the mesmerising reverie. Inwardly cursing the hold she still had on him over the years. It was regulations alone that withheld them from pursuing anything and he had made peace that they could never be. Now . . . Major Carter belonged to someone else.

The memories, however, failed to quench the loneliness. He was still on a deserted landscape. Vulnerable and confused as to what had happened and why he had to be here without their support and backup. Ironic, once upon a time, he had sought after the solitude – to end the guilt and shame that accompanied the death of his son. Albeit an accident – it certainly was a cruel way to lose someone you loved and held close to your heart.

A blood-loss; a grief none could really identify with.

"Aw c'mon, stop being so sentimental!"

 _What happened had done so many years ago. I should not be so . . . susceptible._

 _Dang, this planet has a familiar ring to it, excluding the Great Plains look-alike. Similar to when I was stuck on that forsaken moon, where Harry was on the verge of killing me. Now that is a memory, I hate recalling. It has the same type of desperation and feeling of irrelevance, hauling, enveloping, swallowing me whole. It's a damn thorn in my side._

O'Neill came to an abrupt halt. Desperation overpowered his inner most being, his body wanted, no, _screamed_ for him to panic.

 _Jack O'Neill doesn't panic. I don't cower either._

" _You can deal with this panic and fear strangling the life outta you."_ The mysterious voice tempted.

As on cue, his breath came through shallow along with the feeling of tremendous pressure against his chest. He gaped like a fish, for his lungs felt deprived of oxygen and his head ached terribly. Frantically, his eyes scanned the barren horizon. No life, therefore no hope of evading whatever this was. He wanted an escape route; wanted a solution, not this hopeless, miserable stretch of land, which seemed to have no end in sight.

O'Neill gripped the sides of his head in frustration. Its dampness disgusted him, just as the landscape disgusted him. His facial features revealed as such, creasing in irritation, while his brown eyes squeezed tightly shut, fighting against the rush of emotions and unwelcome thoughts.

Uncontrolled laughter rattled deep within his chest as weary muscles shook with the action. Insanity loomed, and he wanted no part in it. So much was at stake; a team he cared for, a job he loved.

O'Neill's fingers retracted into his skull, and felt like miniscule pins forcing their way into his flesh. Recoiling forward, the pain of the action rippled down his neck and forehead. It was a desperate effort to draw his attention away from the unfamiliar feelings flooding his psyche.

"What's wrong with me?"

" _One way, Jack, there's one way to stop this insanity."_

The Colonel's hands fell from their place, leaving behind tiny lesions where his fingers had torn through his skin. Laughter started up again, softly rippling through his chest. His shoulders uncurled his stooped posture, and once upright, his eyelids opened to gaze at the empty scenery.

A gust of wind moved through the grass, its sound making his skin flinch. For no apparent reason, his senses maxed out and it annoyed him to the core.

" _Take the sidearm and end it!"_ The voice shrieked. _"You'll be free, taken away from this hell hole. You won't have to face another snakehead, Replicator or any threat ever again."_

Fear suddenly seized his body draining energy like a flashlight a battery. Shaky knees collapsed underneath him, while his hands countered his weight on the red soil. His back coiled with the strain. Gasping, as every fibre of his being screamed for release, for comfort and for peace. He was helpless and tired like a fish on dry land struggling to stay alive. He had always wondered how those scaly creatures felt, when their world under the sea transformed to one they could not survive in. Now he knew – it wasn't a pleasant feeling. In fact, it was horrible, terrifying.

Nevertheless, somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, a thought yelled loudly that this was just a mind game, and that he just needed to break its hold on him. Perhaps if he thought hard enough, he would leave this place.

It was hopelessness pinned against survival – fear versus hope; escape versus ending his life. He had been there once before – staring down the barrel of a gun; knew the feeling of remorse that came with it.

In that moment, depression sucked the life out of him, paralysing him. Even with this confusion, there was a deep resistance countering the voice of suicide – confidence, that if he could find something worthwhile, the struggle to live would continue.

 _This . . . it feels unusual, forced even. My life now compared to then, it's not the same. I have something to live for. I have friends, teammates. A directive: to save my planet from aliens both foreign and domestic._

The tall grass swayed more than usual, and an annoying cringe rippled through his muscles, enabling a lingering sentence to shatter his self-assured thought pattern.

" _I want to kill myself . . ."_

Suddenly, his right hand moved down to the holstered weapon, slender long fingers unclipping the flap that secured the M9 Beretta in place. His mind shouted in anguish for the hand to stop, but the weapon drifted from its hiding place in slow fluent motion. Disappointment flooded his insides as the gun lifted into view and moved towards his temple. Eyes closed at the touch, as its cold metal barrel sent a chill down his spine. Heavy breathing and immobilising fear accompanied this action; contrary to the absurdness, he should be feeling. He was no longer master of his actions and thoughts. A ludicrous state to be in, seeing that the current environment should not have compelled him to this extreme deed.

" _Colonel O'Neill, I believe we will find a way."_ A familiar voice declared.

Jack revelled in the comfort of Sam Carter's words. Continually, she would fight her way out of situations, life threatening or not – just to save the team. That thought alone helped soothe his current crippling anxiety.

" _Jack, why do you have to go to the extreme, every time things turn sideways? Everything is not a threat, you know."_

Daniel, ever the diplomat, saw the bright side to life and always seemed to calm his military mind.

" _You're a formidable warrior, O'Neill,"_ Teal'c's deep restful voice reverberated in his mind _, "Undomesticated equines would never prevent your success. Of that, I am sure."_

The holster softly sounded off, as the Beretta returned to its place. A sigh of relief echoed, whilst the Colonel rested his hands on his knees, making him seem as if he bowed down in thankfulness. He felt queasy, swallowing the threatening bile in the back of his throat, slowly comforting the lingering nausea. His whole body shook in response to the internal external war, while a shaky laugh followed suit. His anxiety faded away like footprints in the sand.

It felt good to know that death would be postponed for another time, considering that the world still needed saving, and that he still needed to escape this confounded scene, get far away from this dreadful and eerie landscape.

Precariously and unbalanced, Jack managed to ascend to his full height, and it was during this action that understanding dawned on him. Reality had struck too late– how could he have failed to remember the room he had emerged from. It was never an option; not once did he think about it as an escape. Hastily, Jack turned on his heels.

The empty doorframe stood plastered in the middle of the field, exactly where he had walked through it. It was indeed a peculiar sight.

 _That wasn't there earlier. I could have sworn it disappeared the moment I stepped over its threshold. Dammit._

 _I swear I will get the guys behind this sick joke._

The veteran soldier stomped in the direction of the door, fuming inside, angry that he had allowed himself to succumb to such a stupid and idiotic ploy.

 _You are better than this._

The thought alone propelled him forward, closing the gap in record time. His knees protested, while muscles worked extra hard to navigate through the uncomfortable, abundant grass.

Finally, with the door within his grasp, he stopped rigidly, considering his next line of action. If he stepped through, he might not end where he had begun on PM6-324, but rather transported into another scenario. On the other hand, he might wake up in a cell held captive by the folks, who had caused this chaos in the first place. Either way, he had to do something, anything to get away from this death defining landscape.

Fortunately, he had a gun: _which may also be an illusion. I hate it when my mind's scrambled. I do know I'm being scammed. I hope that the team has come to the same conclusion; otherwise, I am so screwed!_

Jack grabbed the handle, heart racing in his ears. Pressed it down, inwardly wishing he were back with the team, and then the door opened with little resistance, light disbanding his confident façade.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Infinite Railway Track

[Updated 24/08/2017]

\- thank you to those who have reviewed thus far, I really appreciate the feedback.

\- I forgot to mention in the summary that the story's a mystery focussed mainly on Jack, that, and it has a theme to it, which will gradually grow as the story goes along. I apologize for the tiny detail missed.

\- Enjoy and keep on following, reading and guessing.

* * *

 **Chapter Three:** **Chaos on the Infinite Railway Track**

The Colonel stepped over the doorsill, inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising with the action. Exhaled once his feet echoed dully underneath him, and slowly opened his eyes, one eyelid at a time.

A long corridor stretched before him, complete with a wooden floor covered in a thin sheet of soot, and black walls with its paint peeling off in irregular places. The decay was almost unbearable, triggering a bout of coughing, as his lungs sought for fresh air. It subsided after a while.

This was not PM6- 324; the forsaken hot plate he had stepped onto through the Gate. This was a cramped corridor leading him to his demise. The walls portrayed as such – black, flaky, smothered, and depressive. For all he knew, he might be exploring his death. The thought alone caused a spine chilling sensation. Around him, the walls mirrored the deepest uncharted part of his soul. A part he was afraid to delve into, for it was the place marred by his Special Operations days. Stained by the things he had to do in order to survive, covered up by the days spent exploring other worlds, a place no one desired to reside in, or visit. It was uncharted for he made it so.

The wooden floors initiation was impossible to discern, so were their destination. He was following an unchanging gloomy railway track – life, as he knew it to be. Jonathan Jack O'Neill was this dilapidated corridor, he finally decided.

Sullen and with shoulders stooped, O'Neill walked down the corridor, passageway, hallway – whatever his mind preferred to label it as, whilst dust ascended and descended in tune with his boots. A few paces turned into a dozen, turned into five minutes, turned into a half an hour. Feeling morbid, O'Neill wished this trek ended with an exit, and not with an endless hallway without doors, without windows, and brighter light than the poorly lit bulbs swinging back and forth. Whatever this was, submission was out of the question. He submitted once in the prairie and it scared the heck out of him.

"Dammit!" He growled at the naked light bulbs, "There's nothing here, how can you hang there, rocking back and forth? Mocking me?"

He scrutinized with a dangerous sneer, wishing they would stop, yet they continued with their torturous deed and elicited an exasperated sigh that resonated loudly in the vicinity. His legs moved forward, feet unwillingly dragging underneath him.

 _Change!_ He commanded within, squinting at the corridor before him. _Just bloody change!_

The situation remained the same. The lights still gently rocked. The hallway had no exit. Soot still covered the floors. The black paint remained in its decrepit state and the walls still threatened to crush the air from his lungs.

After an hour, his legs felt like jelly, while the rest of his body sought for a respite – that and he desired a refreshing drink of water and some tasty food. Leaning his head back, he shouted livid curses at the ceiling. Little satisfaction came from the effort, however only managed to fuel his already boiling frustration. Gawking about the corridor, Jack retreated against the wall and slid down, whilst his military issued boots squawked on the wooden floor, and his rump hit its surface with a blunt thud. Protesting knees remained in a bent position, while his arms dangled over his legs.

His deathlike gaze drilled a hole in the opposing wall.

"C'mon!" Jack growled his voice low and taciturn. "You don't fool me. The gig's up! Get me outta here!" He threatened. "Or should I click my heels together three times?"

 _Bang. Bang. Bang_. His boots collided with each other, while his next words reached an octave louder than the previous instructions: "Don't you know I have this ploy of yours figured out? You can't go messing with an uncooperative . . ."

Weariness suddenly overwhelmed his body causing his last words to slur, while his head leaned against the wall. Not long after, his eyes closed and his mind drifted into pitch-black darkness, soaring on the wings of time, lost in a void.

* * *

 **A few hours later**

"Wake up! Wake up, Jonathan!"

Jack groaned in his sleep, swatting at the annoying hand.

"We need to leave." The unfamiliar voice spoke with urgency, but it did zilch to stir the Colonel from his dream.

Ignorant of the intrusion, the Colonel rebuked the voice. "There is no _here_ , boy. I should have you reprimanded for this."

The young man scowled in confusion, shaking O'Neill in a vigorous manner. "The enemy is upon us! We need to leave immediately." Then through pursed lips. "Now!"

Jack O'Neill startled with a snort, his world coming through obscure. His eyes blinked a few times, adjusting to his environment. It was black with the amber light of a torch dancing on the farthest wall.

 _Where has the hallway gone to . . ._

 _Did I just call him a boy?_

The confusion and abrupt pull from a wearisome dream furrowed his brow. Numb hands gradually found their way to his face, his fingertips rubbing at the murkiness. Also imagined how the fog in his mind lifted with the action. It was just a bad dream he determined. Then realization struck the Colonel like a tsunami full force, propelling him into an upright position.

His eyes anxiously sought through the dimly lit room. Something was wrong, but he failed to recall what it was. He had flagged it as important and not knowing its significance triggered a fierce anger within his emotions.

O'Neill's world shattered as a stern hand curled around his bicep, pulled him to his feet, and fared well to jerk him back to full cognizance. Shoved like a prisoner against a nearby corner, his head and right shoulder swiftly burnt with the contact. He murmured a foul curse, succeeded it by a fierce stare directed in the culprit's direction. A callous action halted by a hand purposefully shoving his head against the wall yet again. Pain spiked in all directions, as the attacker kept him pinned.

An unfamiliar sensation slivered its way through his soul – a feeling of helplessness seeping through his muscles. He felt weak as dread flooded his system and paralysed his ability to resist. Hot breath came and went against his face as the attacker shouted, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. An unrestrained whimper slipped through his lips. The same person, who had saved earth from the Goa'uld, pleaded for mercy. In retort, raspy laughter filled the empty space, and Jack's eyes closed waiting for the end to come.

Suddenly, a deafening gunshot replaced the hair-raising laughter. Blood coated the wall next to his head, and a different man, friendly this time, gently pulled him from the ensnaring corner and away from the lifeless attacker.

His mind clouded with smog as distant words broke through in intervals. They were moving now. Away from the death trap, but his world didn't seem to grasp that he was free. In his mind's eye, he was still stuck in an environment resembling quicksand, and if countered, only hauled him deeper into its vortex. From the recesses of his mind, a familiar urgency emerged, pulling him from the vortex, and suddenly, he saw the space around him.

They were in a neglected training facility.

In his army days, he had spent countless hours in a building such as this. Exercises accomplished all in the name of fulfilling their C.O.'s standards. They were better for it – that year his team had achieved the highest mission success amongst a dozen other teams.

Next, his eyes combed over the figure he had blindly followed. It took a swift sharp turn left down a long corridor, whilst its torch licked at the darkness. The moonlight filtering through the rooms they passed by, indicated it was evening. Somehow knowing this bit of information conveyed a comfort his soul longed for.

At the end of the corridor, a door appeared and without further ado, the figure burst through it. Their progress quickly halted by a large window, which filled most of the wall and show cased a courtyard. The moonlight shone from the right, casting a dark shadow on the left wing of the building.

On instinct, Jack shut the door behind them, and then searched through the room for something to bar the door with, but it was empty. Panic settled in – an occurring feeling he loathed. Jack paid no attention to it, turned on his heels, and noted that the crouching figure situated to the left of the windowsill, eyes frantically scanning the starry skies outside. The anomaly pulled the Colonel from his position and towards the right.

Both men were in opposite corners now peering out into the unknown.

A dirt covered courtyard, large enough to fit half a football field, situated before them. A concrete walkway and the exterior of the training facility, hugged its borders. To Jack it looked like a horseshoe, except it lacked the curved effect. Beyond this, he could barely make out the faint outline of a desert hill lined with basilica-like rock formations. It would be asinine to scale the monstrosity he now termed as Cathedral Hill, to escape whoever chased them.

The Colonel's gaze panned over to the man huddled in the corner. He looked like he was barely out of the academy – a boy with no battlefield experience.

Upon further inspection, dark violet fabric with golden lapels revealed a different uniform than distributed by earth's diverse militaries. It shaped a mid-range muscular body, usual for those pursuing such a career. Light blonde hair covered the top of his skull, which turned stubble at his crown went down to the back of his neck and stretched around to his temple, giving it a partially shaved appearance. The blonde fluff appeared longer on the left, reaching down and past his left ear in a V-shape. Face and hands exposed pale skin, and his eyes displayed vibrant green. The same colour of the emerald embedded into a golden signet ring worn on his right hand.

 _What's a royal doing in a place like this?_

As if sensing the scrutiny, Prince scowled at him.

"You observe as if it's the first time we have met. Does a guard not know his master? I demand you tell me why I had to pluck you from the clutches of death."

 _What?_

"A guard Sire?"

Jack frowned in astonishment as the words echoed in his ears. His voice too sounded funny. Not like his usual deep alluring tone.

"Oy! This is just a nightmare, Jack, just a bloody nightmare."

"Excuse me?" Abhorrence laced Royal's countenance. "This behaviour is unacceptable, not to mention your previous performance with that scoundrel. My father promised me an elite protector. Instead, I got you. Once we reach Toskiya, I will make sure that you are whipped for this insolence."

Jack watched his saviour with astonished eyes. Then decided it would be best to act his imaginary part.

"But Sire, how was I to engage an enemy whom I could not see? I have a concussion for my ignorance."

 _And that's the truth._

O'Neill's head throbbed like a pounding hammer, which explained his obscure thoughts and confused state, yet, not his current dilemma. Instinctively, his right hand moved to the nape of his neck and came back sticky and bloody. His eyes expanded in shock, for the blood was not the only peculiar thing. His hand resembled that of a stranger's; they were younger, stronger.

Before he could process the change, the prince silenced him with a waving hand.

"A Bladed Craft approaches."

 _What the heck is a Bladed Craft?_

Jack stared at Prince as if he had gone mad, and then his expression fell as the familiar sound of rotor blades slicing through the air became louder.

"Oh, _that_ Bladed Craft!"

It was a UH-60 Black Hawk Helicopter, the same used in Desert Storm, but they had retrofitted this one to cause havoc more than save soldiers from an onslaught.

 _What's a helicopter doing on another planet?_

A single spotlight penetrated through the night sky, scouting the area like a lighthouse. However, this light was not a warning one; it was a seeker, seeking whom it could devour. Like in this instance, the frightened prince O'Neill was presumably to keep out of harm's way.

Peering through the window, Jack saw the Black Hawk hovering above the hill, its light scanning the training facility until it came to an abrupt stop. It had found its target.

A terrifying whirring sound quickened with each passing second, building momentum as it echoed above the Craft's rotor blades and vibrated through the walls. Jack did not think twice about what followed next, as he had seen enough of what this Helicopter had produced on the battlefield.

Panic rippled through his body.

"Get down!" He shouted above the noise.

Both men dove for the floor as hundreds of bullets relieved the window frame of its glass and continued to shred the door opposing it to smithereens. Next, the mini-gun moved to the left, bullets tearing the concrete walls to shards, and then back past the door to the right, destroying what was left of the room. Grey dust swallowed them whole and O'Neill could barely distinguish the cowering Royal from its cloud. His hands were covering his head, whilst pressing his body tight against the corner. Jack too, mirrored the same posture, hands over his ears, as the slugs did their part of leaving no stone unturned.

The devouring suddenly stopped.

Jack slowly uncovered his ears, frowning in confusion, until he heard abrasive shouts exchanged between the pilot and the gunner. Apparently, the weapon had jammed, giving the Colonel a brief opening to assess his options. On instinct, he reached for his sidearm, peered out the window's empty frame, and aimed at the pilot.

Three bullets followed in procession.

The first two broke through the thick windshield making way for the third, as it collided with the pilot's skull in a loud thwack. It should not have worked, but it did . . . with a simple handgun.

He shrivelled back into his corner as the Craft impersonated a spinning top, before finally impaling itself on Cathedral Hill with an immense impact. A shockwave followed suit, its force obliterating nearby walls and shattering windows as the facility absorbed its wave. Fire trailed behind, flames licking into the room and disappearing as swiftly as it came. Moonlight soon replaced the firestorm, its light filtering into the room.

Slowly O'Neill's eyes opened, coughing as his lungs inhaled the dust still hanging in the air. Across from him, the empty metal doorframe rose above the pulverised walls. Overhead, his eyes glimpsed the ceiling that appeared to be exhaling its last breath. Desperate, Jack staggered to his feet. Hurried over to Prince, and pulled him from his hiding place. The unexpected deed furrowed the young man's brow, his confusion unmistakeable. Nonetheless, the groaning sound from above soon rectified it, and both jumped haphazardly over the windowsill, hitting the dirt with a thud.

A loud crack spewed granules of concrete and thick dirt in their direction as the roof sunk down to the floor, crumbling to chunks.

Lifting themselves off the ground, the Colonel noticed he had another weapon strapped to his left thigh, as was customary for the inhabitants. If he had known this previously, he would have been strong, arrogant even, and the assailant would had been the one pinned to the wall with two guns aimed at his head.

Shaking himself free from the image, his eyes glanced the figure beside him. Prince gawked in shock, his body trembling underneath his soot covered uniform. O'Neill disregarded him for the moment and instead focussed on the weapon in his right hand. It resembled earth's version of a USP semi-automatic sidearm. It felt good in his grip as if it belonged. The memory he stowed away for later – it would be the perfect weapon to keep in the armoury.

The aforementioned now dangled at his right side, whilst his eyes combed the devastation. Within the courtyard, a four-foot dam wall mounted above the soil, covering a radius from the building's one wing to another. The explosion mimicked a Grader's labour, as it had cleared a sizable path from the foot of the hill en route for them. Amongst scattered debris, numerous sporadic bonfires danced in the night, while dislodged Helicopter parts lay discarded, mostly around Cathedral Hill where it had finally met its demise. A lone rotor blade lodged in the centre of the courtyard, while smoke rose in its wake.

Presently, there was no sign of the pilot or his gunner. However, to the west, his gaze spotted something peculiar, not known amid such a terrible crash. His left hand grabbed for the sidearm and joining the other weapon, O'Neill directed them to his right. Prince too, marked the same observation, yet to the east just beyond the small rise.

The young man's weapon raised in its direction, "Y-y-you think they survived?"

O'Neill locked eyes with the trembling man. "I doubt it, but I've been wrong before."

"Those are not comforting words." He replied irritated.

A wry smile formed on Jack's lips. "Well, I do try…." The young man glared at him, Jack quickly adding with a deadpan expression, "Sire."

Satisfied, he peered at the devastation. "They must have ejected before the Craft went down."

"It does explain the two bodies."

"Then we shall inspect." Boldness dripped from his words. "They may still be alive."

"Ode Joy!"

The young man scowled at the Colonel's sarcastic phrase, but Jack shrugged it off, left his position, and scaled the mount. To his left, Prince did the same, and moving away from one another in the direction of their respective locations, each found unconscious bodies.

Bending down on one knee, the Colonel examined the comatose soldier. He seemed familiar, but he could not put a name to him. Maybe he was somebody he served with; on the other hand, he was stuck inside someone else's body and stranded on another planet. His memory might not be his own.

His slender fingers reached for the soldier's neck and upon touch, the man's appearance distorted and flickered like a hologram. His hand jerked away, surprised by the behaviour. Dread flooded his system, trembling his muscles, while his heart hammered in his chest and adrenaline burst its way through his blood stream.

 _What the . . . that's not possible. This is all just a bad dream. It's just a dream, remember Jack._

A sudden petrified shriek slivered through his shocked state. Evidently, Royal had witnessed the same thing. At that point, the body unexpectedly disappeared at his side and merged with the one before the young man, who hastened away on all fours, trying desperately to create distance between him and the strange being.

The young man's fear was clear in that moment, yet Jack also glimpsed the recognition in his eyes. Royal knew the truth behind this occurrence and it chilled the Colonel to the bone. A shudder confirmed it. Responding, Jack ascended to his full height. Guns raised at the fallen soldier. Warily, he moved in Prince's direction, who had escaped to the windowsill.

"What the hell was that?" He practically barked at the young man, throwing caution to the wind.

"How dare you!" Squeaked Royal, his fierce gaze apparent.

"I do . . . challenge you!" The man gaped like a fish, allowing Jack to mock him with a sly smile. "Answer the question, _Sire_." The weapon in his left hand panned over to Royal. "Dare. Me." He demanded through pursed lips.

Prince appeared as if to throw a tantrum, but instead he faltered underneath O'Neill's death glare.

"I do not know why I should explain this to you. You serve the same . . ."

At that moment, realization dawned and as on cue, his sidearm trained on the Colonel, who responded in kind, shifting his secondary weapon back alongside the first.

"You are one of them!" Prince shouted in anger, livid that he had failed recognition sooner.

"What?" Jack's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?" He commanded furiously, wishing he could understand. He only knew certain important memories were missing, he failed to remember what it was. "What am I?"

"A _simulated rival_ you daft man!"

Finally, the puzzle pieces came together in Jack O'Neill's mind.

He remembered the black damp room, the forlorn prairie, and lastly, the unending corridor. Weariness, then, enveloped his body, arms dropping to his sides. His weapons slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground.

Royal stared in puzzlement, watching as the Protector dropped to his knees and toppled over. Jack's mind drifted for a few seconds before succumbing to oblivion. Royal's fierce words the last he heard.


	4. Chapter 4 - Swallowed Whole

[Updated 24/08/2017]

 **Chapter Four** **: ****Swallowed Whole**

Intense energy pulsed within Jack's inert body and he jerked awake, jumping to his feet without contemplating why. His body felt numb, as if he had fought in a war and recently realized it needed a respite. Which was strange, because he had hardly woken up, with an electrifying startle.

O'Neill's hands found the wall and he rested his weary forehead against it, while his mind rushed with questions, he knew he could not answer. He wanted to return to the planet, walk through the Stargate, take a long shower, and go to bed. That wasn't wishful thinking. This corridor was – it was a fake. Like the room, the prairie and Toskiya. Everything was false, but it all felt very real. The attacker, Royal, the Bladed Craft, and the explosion – what he had experienced lingered in his muscles, lingered in his senses and mind. The emotions too, were very much alive.

A deep groan reverberated in his chest, worked its way to his throat, and then spilled from his mouth. He poured his heart into that deep growl, the veins in his neck throbbing with the release. Adrenaline pulsed within and anger rose to a new height.

His hands balled up into fists and slammed against the wall. Open palms followed suit, and then O'Neill stagnated. Anger not tempered, but silently awakened. Death normally succeeded such emotion, yet he channelled it in the direction of the door he had arrived by.

Jack tilted in the direction he knew he had come from. Gradually, his feet shuffled forward, speed slightly increasing until he sprinted. Fuelled by anger, driven by truth, and accelerated by this fraudulent world, he ran without stopping until the door appeared.

After thirty minutes, the object presented itself, his goal now a certainty.

Jack halted.

 _I should be bursting through that door not stopping._

Nevertheless, his feet felt cemented to the floor as he observed his exit.

 _Okay, so maybe if I walk through it, I won't be transported back to my team. Maybe I'll walk into something . . . else. Which would be what exactly? Seriously, have I not faced enough already?_

 _The door keeps disappearing once I enter a different environment, but always comes back when I realize it's a fake._ _Possibly, there's a purpose behind this. Perhaps I should submit to this cruel joke and find out what it really wants from me._

 _All I know is until now, I have faced every obstacle without the support of my team, and it sucks. It stinks. With them here, I wouldn't be facing these things on my own. Not even Royal's presence soothed their absence, only intensified my need for them._

Jack's eyes closed and chin drooped the minute understanding dawned on him.

From the beginning, he had faced familiar obstacles. Things he normally struggled with inside his mind and heart, had come to life, and each time he had dominated it. Each time he had come out stronger. So maybe the right decision was rather to embrace the madness rather than fight it.

His feet moved on their own accord, whilst his heart beat like the hoofs of a racing horse against his ribcage. He despised this, but he had to do it. Jonathan of old would never back down from any challenge; he would have thrived on it. Even now, he still accepted them, but his age prevented him from presenting his true potential as an adrenaline junkie.

Wisdom had replaced impulsiveness. He now chose his battles wisely, preying rather on the enemy's arrogance by antagonizing them. The thought formed a wry smile on his lips.

O'Neill halted once more as the door was within reach. He took a deep breath, silencing any stray nostalgic thoughts and exhaled as his hand extended towards the handle.

 _Let's hope it's not another corridor or that grassland. Wide-open spaces will forever haunt my dreams thanks to that prairie._

Without further ado, the handle shifted and the door creaked open, white light filtering into the corridor. Jack O'Neill closed his eyes and walked through.

Air replaced solidity and he plummeted, screaming at the top of his lungs.

* * *

Jack O'Neill's boots cut through the water like a hot knife through butter. Nostrils quickly filled with salt water, which burned unremittingly. The sensation made him flinch as it entered his throat; his eyes too, were feeling the effects so he closed them immediately. It was an intolerable action– he was not up to feeling like a blind mole. He rather favoured sight, it meant he could plot his escape, yet this was an ocean, which only contained its creatures – only drowning threatened him now.

The Colonel descended deeper and deeper into the depths below, and once stationary, large water bubbles enveloped his body with a horrendous force, squeezing against flesh, muscle, and bone. Hands and arms flailed wildly, mimicking a bird in flight, while his legs pushed against the apparent pull.

He looked like a kick-boxer fighting the air, whilst he fought for air. With each action, there was an equal reaction, which only resulted in him sinking further.

Within, Jack screamed loudly, fiercely and anxiously. He did not expect to find this when he exited through the door.

His thoughts mulled repeatedly, he could not seem to find the precise thought to fight against something that frankly desired to drag him into oblivion.

Fear prowled like a leopard leering at its prey. It was undetectable, the magnificent formidable beast had power and it had the element of surprise. His fear mirrored this, creeping through his system and latching onto anything in its way. Happily, it fed his mind and emotions, and they absorbed it, invited it in, and entertained it with great pleasure.

His body responded in kind, hysterically thrashing underneath the weight of the ocean, his vision set on the light reflecting off its surface up above. He needed to get there, but he was stuck, like a vehicle in thick mud. The wheels were spinning; but its effort only dug it deeper, swallowed by the sludge – helpless with nowhere to go.

Like that vehicle, he needed someone to pull him free; however, it was he and the ocean, no one to reach out and pull him to safety. He was alone without backup, yet again.

He would die alone without somebody to love as he had Sara and his son Charlie. The insight penetrated through the angst, overpowering the fear playing with his mind and emotions. Instantly, the fear grew distant, no longer posed as a threat.

Now the only thing that remained unconquered was the water.

Jack stilled.

His lungs sought for oxygen, but he stayed the course. This world would not take him – this was his advantage, his playing card. It had purpose as long as he submitted to it, regardless of what his mind screamed, regardless of what his body wanted.

The waiting felt like a decade, but only a few seconds had passed. Jack did not know how long he would have to keep still before the pressure stopped, not to mention that he was still sinking. His lungs were struggling, desperately seeking for oxygen.

The battle commenced as he writhed like a snake. He could feel his limbs going numb, his muscles contracting and his heart fighting to stay alive. His mind fogged up and felt like it was about to explode. He wanted, so desperately, to give in to the panic that went with oxygen deprivation, but he did not. As a good soldier, he stood on his reasoning – this realm would not take him.

He slipped into unconsciousness, while a certain weightlessness occupied this. He was floating like a cloud with nothing but darkness pulling him away from existence.

Jack was dying with only one regret, his world disappearing as his body gave in to the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5 - Panic

[Updated 24/08/2017]

 **Chapter Five** **PANIC**

[Meanwhile on the planet]

"Sam! What did you do?" Daniel demanded, as he jogged over to her.

She winced at his tone. "I should know better, but I felt compelled to touch it." She said whilst indicating at the object before her.

"O'Neill portrayed the similar attribute prior to his disappearance." Teal'c replied stoically, reaching her position in accordance with the archaeologist.

"What happened?" Daniel inquired, while peering between his teammates.

"The signal of a power source led me to this dais. Instead, I found a square button of sorts within the platform. Well, you know the rest." Carter gazed at the scanner in her hand, and then back to the dais, her countenance scowling as her mind churned.

"O'Neill was enveloped by what appeared to be a cloak." The Jaffa warrior supplied, thinking it would help the astrophysicist come to some sort of conclusion.

Sam's distant gaze returned to normal as she peered at her two teammates: "We should go after him." She urged.

"Whoa, hang on." Daniel began, cutting short what could be a long rescue discussion. "According to the text, Jack was transported into a virtual world, which, if I understand correctly, was created by his subconscious mind. If one of us follows after him, we will succumb to our own reality not his."

Horror graced Carter's features, her words relaying as such, "Don't tell me it's like the one we experienced in our second year."

"Nah, it's different. Ostensibly, this is according to what your mind conjures. Well, I think it's like that. The dais is dubbed as the pathway to discovery."

"Daniel Jackson, how do you propose we retrieve O'Neill?"

"We don't, Teal'c. Only the occupant can find the way out. Jack's on his own."

"Is that all the writing said?" Sam inquired deflated.

"I still have a few lines left to translate, but, it won't be promising."

"Who creates a device and doesn't add a fail-safe?" She asked stern and accusing. "There _has_ to be another way out."

"For O'Neill's sake let us hope he knows it's a counterfeit world." Teal'c assured in a positive tone.

"I'm confident." Daniel declared boldly, hiding his doubt, while Sam reluctantly followed with, "Me too."

"O'Neill's a resourceful warrior." The Jaffa said with a raised eyebrow.

Eventually, after a brief pause, Daniel placed his hands on his hips, and acknowledged, "Yeah . . . uhm, I think we need to figure it out." His tone relayed misgiving. "This is Jack we're talking about. It may take a while."

"I could . . . take it apart," Sam offered. "Without becoming susceptible to the apparent attraction it projects." Yet at the end, her words softened, as she comprehended the implications.

Teal'c's countenance creased in dislike, whilst indicating at the path. "O'Neill pointed out that this world's climate does not appear to affect the canyon's vegetation as much as those found around the 'Gate."

Carter gazed between the two men, analysing their options, and then issued the following orders: "I will head for the 'Gate and apprise General Hammond of the situation. Teal'c. Daniel. Stay and complete the translations. Upon my return, we'll check it out." She gestured at the surrounding area. "There has to more than this."

"But what if we don't find anything?"

"Daniel . . ." She warned. "We don't leave our people behind. There's always a solution, we just need to find it."

The men gazed at one another as Sam stepped past Daniel, turned to nod her goodbye, and indicated at her radio. "Call me the minute something happens. And by all means, stay away from the dais. We don't want another team member kidnapped."

Carter left them with the translations, and strolled towards where the road inclined up to the plateau. Chin stooped and eyes focussed on her moving boots, her mind drifted to what had occurred during the Colonel's disappearance.

What she had failed to mention, was that something had happened to her as well. She had felt a jab on her finger, but there was no sign of an entry point. Her senses where on high alert to the point where it irritated the heck out of her. Furthermore, a certain weight pressed against her heart, triggering a feeling of urgency, while her stomach mirrored that of a person who was experiencing vertigo.

It was the strangest sensation. She was perfectly fine, having experienced nothing to make her respond in such a manner.

 _Maybe it's the after effects of the dais – what it had injected into me. Or what it took from me. For the time being, I prefer keeping this information to myself. There's a chance it will fade away and be termed as nothing but a bad experience. If it doesn't subside, I'll let the guys know._

 _The Colonel comes first, it would then be best if they're rather focussed on his rescue than on a stressed teammate._

Five minutes later, Carter walked up to the DHD and dialled earth's address. Symbol after symbol lit up on the Gate, as the corresponding ones were depressed on the device before her.

A sudden unexpected bout of fear smothered the oxygen from her lungs, and she felt the full force of a panic attack. Going down on one knee, she fought to control her breathing, while convincing her mind that everything was fine. Tears flowed down her cheeks with the effort and she gripped her head in confusion, mind fighting to comprehend what her emotions were doing to her body.

Something had definitely infected her system. She couldn't have switched from fighting fit to nothing but jelly in thirty minutes. The only thing that had transpired was O'Neill's vanishing, which by experience did not affect the team's dynamics any longer.

 _No, this is the dais' doing, it has to be_.

After a minute or so, it subsided and Carter was back to her normal self – a Major and astrophysicist, no longer a terrified rookie, yet a skilled warrior and scientist. She tuned into this bold statement and redialled the Gate, shoving the event aside as if it had not crippled her. She would not permit something so ludicrous to take control of this mission, prevent the team from saving O'Neill.

The familiar blue event horizon sprouted forth in the form of a churning wave, and retracted into a rippling pond. Successful in repressing the occurrence from memory, she waited patiently for Stargate Command to respond to the dial-in.

Sergeant Harriman's voice came through a few seconds later confirming her IDC, and she inhaled deeply calming the torment within. Exhaled evenly, while she did what O'Neill would – she soldiered on, informing General Hammond of their mission status, not mentioning what had happened to her.

The astrophysicist settled within her mind that she would remain steadfast for SG1's sake; she would be Major Samantha Carter, strong and unmoving.


	6. Chapter 6 - Those Left Behind

[Updated 24/08/2017]

 **Chapter Six** **: Left behind**

Sweat trickled down Sam's spine, serving as a cooling system in the unbearable heat, while the team progressed on the canyon's path. She had stowed away her beige, camouflaged jacket at the MALP, along with any unnecessary gear that would weigh her down. That was an hour ago. Absent-minded, she checked her watch to confirm her estimation. A curt nod followed as her blue orbs scanned the canyon walls through her dark sunglasses.

Daniel was to her left and Teal'c situated to her right, both attentively gazing at the surroundings. The Colonel's absence reached the two-hour mark, on the dot, making their stay three hours since they had stepped through the Gate – of which most was spent analysing why they could not rescue him. It was indeed an infuriating task.

Ostensibly, Colonel O'Neill was to rescue himself, an argument that had not made sense to her intelligent mind. No, since that conclusion, she had been running through hundreds of permutations, and still, it did not succeed in rescuing the Colonel.

He was lost . . . in his own mind. Which according to Daniel was a bad thing. However, she would not give up so easily. Her determination helped stay the course, along with something else she could not quite clarify, panic attack included.

"It doesn't make sense." Daniel declared, kicking a rock before him. It rolled a good ten feet before veering off to the right.

"Which part?" Carter replied peeved, watching as it went along. After it stopped, her eyes travelled up the road where it disappeared into the snaking canyon that had narrowed with the journey.

The archaeologist shrugged. "Why write a fake history to cover up the truth?"

"We've established this already, Dr Jackson." Teal'c said in a serious tone. Clearly, he was finding this trek frustrating.

"Yeah, a Venus flytrap doesn't strike me as significant. They're missing the Little Shop of Horrors. Furthermore, Jack's no Seymour." Daniel chuckled at the end, staring at a lone tree protruding slightly above to his left.

Sam noted his smile. "Don't forget the dentist hyped up on laughing gas."

"I do not see how referring to a horror movie will aide in O'Neill's rescue."

"No Teal'c, it's an analog . . . and you're correct, it doesn't help us; at all." Jackson's shoulders hunched, somewhat deflated.

"We will find the Colonel." Carter stated boldly.

They had lost a close friend recently; she would not fail another. General Hammond had agreed during her update that they were to bring him back alive. A Search and Rescue team would be sent if they didn't achieve the set goal within a few hours. Yet somehow, she knew, they would not need the extra assistance – call it brave or stupid, this was her gut feeling.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, declaring confidently, "If you believe this to be a flytrap, this trickery will have a master. We only need to find the one who controls this desert. I believe they are on this path. We need to be patient still."

His gaze drifted from his teammates in the direction of the canyon.

The farther in they went, the more the Jaffa saw that nature had shaped it. A river, it seems, had once flowed through it, carving its twists, turns, and smooth formation. Here and there, trees rooted in its crevices, in a horizontal fashion, appearing as if they had begun a journey down the rugged walls and stopped mid-stride, splayed branches keeping it stable.

Behemoth boulders bordered the ten-foot dirt road in random places, as if someone had placed them there for a purpose. Underbrush surrounded some of these monstrosities and some appeared as if it had split the rock in its desperation to seek daylight.

The canyon and everything pertaining to it impersonated a perfect habitat – green, extravagant, and created with a resolve. It lacked the same natural harshness portrayed by the plateau north of the Gate. The question was why.

The Jaffa warrior stopped abruptly, one balled up fist in the air, while his head tilted to the side listening as if a hunting dog.

Carter noted it immediately and raised her weapon, asking in an urgent soft tone. "What's up?"

Daniel's gaze followed theirs and swallowed, suddenly nervous.

Teal'c gestured for them to take cover to the left, while he did so to the right of the path. Each finding a boulder, Carter kept her gaze on the warrior, who placed his forefinger on his lips and extended his Staff weapon before him. Nodding her confirmation, she shoved Daniel toward where the canyon wall and boulder met, then moved back to where she had a better view of the road.

They waited patiently.

Carter's world however, slowed down as anger seeped in. She wanted to rush whomever it was that stood in their way, and desired to beat them into releasing Colonel O'Neill.

Her mind suddenly stopped at the thought and turned into a question. _Why would you do such a senseless thing?_

Apparently, her heart now fuelled her frustration not her mind nor her military discipline. Sam detested when it did that. Jack no longer held her heart, Pete did. However, it still left her confused, a peculiar kind of puzzlement she was yet to decipher. The jab from earlier must have subsided to the background, its lingering effects not strong enough to cause what it had done at the DHD. Though, Carter still had a pit in her stomach, still had a heightened sense of concern. All of which had converted into frustration. She was a smart woman and this was killing her, figuratively speaking, due to her mind seeking tiresomely through possible explanations for this incident.

She dismissed the foolish feelings and concentrated on the Jaffa warrior instead. His creased forehead revealed that something or someone was now fast approaching. However, she also noted a hint of confusion in his expression.

 _Oh boy! He doesn't know what it is. This is bad, very bad!_

The Major gulped, her hand gripping the P-90 in concern. The day just took a nosedive. A steep dive, for Teal'c's Staff weapon lowered to the ground, and he quickly grabbed for the Zat. The warrior's eyes bulged with the action, and Sam followed his fixed gaze. A boulder blocked her view and it chilled her to the bone. She could not shoot what she could not see.

Daniel suddenly gasped beside her, and then she saw. A request she instantly regretted.


	7. Chapter 7 - Assassin's Land

[Updated 28/08/2017]

 **Chapter Seven** **: Assassins' Land**

"There's no sense in hiding." The deep voice resonated in the canyon. "I have known of your arrival since the disappearance of your Colonel O'Neill. Now, show yourselves and let's discuss this in a reasonable manner."

Sam huddled behind the boulder, shoulders squared against its surface as she gazed at the archaeologist beside her. She whispered, "Anything?"

Daniel shook his head, replying softly, "Other than that he knows about Jack, I've got nothing."

She acknowledged his statement and tilted her head in the direction of Teal'c, who raised his eyebrow asking for a command. Carter placed her forefinger on her lips signalling for him to remain hidden, whilst she confirmed her former sighting. Her head gradually moved to the edge of the boulder and then quickly withdrew.

 _Yup, I'd definitely seen a man on a black stallion._

When she had first sighted them, her brow had furrowed in confusion. _A horse off-world?_ She had thought, but then she remembered the Mongols they had encountered in their first year. _Seven years ago, no wonder it's strange to see one now, not the soldier though._

Recalling his appearance, the warrior was dressed like an assassin, suited with dark battle leathers across his chest, shoulders, and biceps. A sleeveless black coat hugged this in addition to a hooded cloak, which draped over his left shoulder. Ankle boots retrofitted to his knees with leather, stretched over close-fitting pants. All of which donned a tanned muscular body.

Furthermore, he had a sword and knife set strapped to his left hip hidden by the silky cloak. Secured to his right thigh, was a sidearm, most likely a stunner. Dark brown eyes, medium length hair and stubble beard, which hid a scar that stretched from his right eyebrow down to his jaw, completed the recollection.

"Do not try my patience." The mustang pounded the path with its right hoof like an ostrich pecking at the ground. "I am not to be toyed with. Throw down your weapons and show yourselves or I will be forced to act." He threatened deviously.

 _It's three against one. What can you do?_

"Disarm!" Within the blink of an eye, another stealthily warrior with similar attire in the colour beige, had relocated and positioned herself amidst them. Weapon raised at the Doctors, and sword pointed at Teal'c who raised his Zat in retort. His expression displayed that she had caught him by surprise – an unlikely occurrence for a warrior of his calibre.

 _It's not every day that someone can get one up on the First Prime. Better, watch ourselves._ Sam thought.

"I would do as my master says." The woman's lips had moved underneath a veil covering her facial features from below her amber eyes down to her neck.

Sam nodded at the Jaffa, and in unison, they reluctantly unclipped their vests and dropped their weapons, eyes carefully observing the mysterious characters. The female assassin moved swiftly, collecting the released vests, whilst another warrior appeared to assist her, grabbing for the additional weapons. This assassin's body matched that of a young man's, Sam quickly observed. Both took off, en route for and past their master, who curtly nodded as they vanished behind a boulder up the path.

SG1 stood unarmed and clearly astonished, Sam scowling dangerously at the man on his mustang. _The Colonel would've had a witty quip for this._

"I am Haran." He extended his arms before him gesturing at the canyon. "Welcome to my planet."

A wry smile curled his lips as his gaze darted between them, lingering finally on the Major.

Dr Jackson adjusted his glasses, and smiling kindly, spoke, "I am Daniel Jackson." He gestured to his right at his teammates, "This is Samantha Carter and Teal'c, we're peaceful explorers."

"I know who you are." Haran replied haughtily.

"Colonel O'Neill, I presume, told you about us?" Carter asked, blue eyes scrutinizing.

Unless forced to do so or if deemed trustworthy, Colonel O'Neill would not have surrendered to Haran's demands. Carter's gut told her it was the latter.

"My dear woman." Haran's laughter drifted in the air. "Look at what transpired in mere minutes. Do you think I need your Colonel's help?" His eyes combed her body; she was certainly a fine woman. The Major responded with a sickened glare.

"I suppose not." Teal'c answered expression neutral and fists clenched as he drew the warrior's attention. "However, we would like to know what you have done with our leader."

Haran's stern gaze tilted in his direction, "You are Jaffa . . . a Sholva by the looks of it. What have they done to deserve your loyalty?" His words dripped with discontentment.

Daniel emerged from behind the boulder, stepping closer to the path as he addressed the Arab head-on. "He saved us, and in exchange we gave him a home and a place in our military. He's also our closest friend, fighting alongside us against the Goa'uld. He is no Sholva." The warrior remained silent, while the horse snorted in response jerking its halter.

The archaeologist's demeanour changed, his expression turning inquisitive. "We would like to know what you have done to Colonel O'Neill. We know that the inscriptions are false, we haven't yet figured out why." The man mocked him with a sly smile, Daniel faithfully continuing, "Since you're here now, maybe you can help us out. Like I said, we mean you no harm."

Haran clicked his tongue a few times, the team thinking it was to nudge the mustang, but instead, six warriors lurked over the canyon walls, compound bows in hand, arrows aimed down at them.

Carter raised her hands in surrender, cursing inwardly whilst proclaiming outwardly, "Yeah, things just got worse."

Her expression turned furious, as she regarded the smirking warrior, sitting casually on his mount like a king on his throne. Hatred surged within her, wishing O'Neill were there to set this man straight, tell him where to stick it, 'cause she really wanted to do it.

 _Oh, I'll so enjoy wiping that smirk off your face._

"Indeed!" Teal'c forlornly agreed, while Daniel eyed the shadowy characters, slowly raising his hands, "No kidding."

Haran tugged at the reins, the horse turning away from them, and glanced over his shoulder, smugness in his next words. "Come, come, let's move. We have much to discuss." He smiled wryly as he noted Carter's hostile expression, her eyes blazing.

 _I will most certainly enjoy speaking to you, Samantha._ He savoured her name as one did a rich creamy dessert. Desire briefly lit up in his eyes, not caring that she saw, and he smiled his most charming smile, thinking, _only to cause O'Neill more pain for his insolence, that is what you will be._

Breaking eye contact, looking before him, Haran announced barely audible. "All for your Jack O'Neill's sake."

Behind Haran, his warriors comfortably slid down the walls and encircled the team, Teal'c scolding them with a nasty look.

"We obey, we find the Colonel. We'll take it from there." Sam relayed under her breath, the Jaffa bowing his head in confirmation.

Daniel inserted his hands in his pockets, and leisurely followed behind the warriors that directed them. "If you say so."


	8. Chapter 8 - Accepting the truth

[Updated 29/08/2017]

 **Chapter Eight: ****Accepting the Truth**

Jack O'Neill awoke to air moving down his throat, willing his lungs to breathe. His chest was enflamed and hurt as if someone had beat him for sure.

 _CPR? Why?_

Jack's mind spun in confusion – everything felt blurry and messy. Nothing fit were it should fit and he wanted to scream, a long guttural scream. At that moment, water forced its way up his throat, and raspy coughing carried on for a few seconds, racking his body.

 _Sand? What the heck is going on?_

Gentle hands rolled him onto his side and immediate relief travelled through his body. He could breathe something he immensely appreciated.

"Carter?" O'Neill asked through shortness of breath.

"No. No, you are close. Yet so far." The woman coaxed.

Jack's brow furrowed in uncertainty, and he slowly tilted his head to the woman still rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"Far might be an understatement." The words echoed gravelly, but the woman heard enough to quirk a sly smile.

"Thanks, for the rescue." Jack supplied.

She gazed out over the rippling waves, her eyes softening. "I've never seen a man brave enough to die so that he could escape the ocean."

 _Oh, so that's what happened._

Jack turned unto his back, his rescuer filtering into view. His heart raced, long eyelashes blinked a few times. He examined her with a soft gaze, this woman could explain away, still, she looked like Samantha Carter without, but he doubted that she was so within. None possessed the same treasure of a mind than the Major.

His hand extended towards her. "Colonel Jack O'Neill." He relayed politely.

Her forehead creased in a frown, eyes scrutinizing the man's courtesy. She decided to stand up from her kneeling position, and then extended her hand to him instead. "You can call me Protector." A beautiful smile reaching up to her eyes, laced her lips.

The Colonel scowled at her vague reply, took her hand, and allowed her to pull him up. Once on his feet, a slight dizziness cascaded inside his head. Clearing his throat, he ignored the spell with a charming smile.

"Ah, okay. I doubt that's your real name, but I'll go with it."

Protector mirrored his smile, which caught him off-guard. Normally, the Major exhibited proper military conduct, yet this woman was unabashed, not afraid to be herself. As this was unreal, he had to keep his distance or his heart would suffer . . . terribly.

The Colonel cleared his throat once more, avoided her gaze, and instead admired the scenery around him. For once, it was not threatening, nor killing him, it was indeed breath taking.

The beach stretched on in both directions with palm trees, mangroves, and green undergrowth lining the interior, while transparent bluish green water lined its exterior. It reflected one of those beaches found in Maui. It was amazing and tranquil at the same time. To the east, O'Neill saw the cliff he had plunged from, it looked exactly like the white cliffs of Dover.

A shudder crawled down his spine, that cliff was the reason he had plunged to his death.

Jack's brown eyes combed the beach once more, shifting the near death experience from his mind. It suddenly came to him that this was exactly how he had pictured it in his dreams . . . his face fell.

 _With Sam . . . and, Protector here looks just like her, except, her eyes are a different shade of blue, sun-tanned skin and long hair. She is very beautiful._

 _Du'oh! Concentrate, O'Neill. Get your mind out of the gutter._

The sudden pull on his hand, shattered his internal debate, and his feet walked in tune with the Protector's, as she led him from the beach in the direction of two prominent Palms. They towered above them, gently swaying with the rhythm of the breeze. A five-foot sandy path extended from the guarding giants, and moved amid clusters of jagged rocks and lavish shrubbery that coated the tropic island.

Farther in, he noted the edge of a treeline, and amidst it, a wooden staircase curled around an ancient Red Cedar. An elegant tree house hung ten metres off the ground.

Jack gaped, mesmerized by its beauty, as its appearance reminded him of his log cabin in Minnesota; however, this one enfolded a tree, it's exterior existing of smooth reddish timbers.

 _It's a thing of beauty! Wouldn't change a thing._

The whole setup seemed too good to be true, his countenance portraying as such. He was like a boy that had received his very first tree house. It was outstanding, rugged, and most probably still had the fresh wood smell. He was curious to see the inside.

Within a few minutes, he was on the deck, overlooking the beach and ocean. This was paradise, the perfect getaway, what dreams consisted of. Jack inhaled a deep breath revelling in the salty smell and calm waves lapping against the shore, and exhaled as feet padded behind him, reminding him of who he now faced.

"Not to sound ungrateful, but why am I here?" His gaze remained fixed on the beach. "I've paid my bill, it's time to go and die in the next scenario."

Nonchalance betrayed Jack's true feelings. He desired to stay here and enjoy this peace. Yet, he had to get back to the desert planet, back to his team. If this were not the goal, he would stay lost in this world's euphoria, and with Protector here, it would be a difficult task to stay on topic.

Why did she have to resemble a familiar face, a person he had come to rely upon in the field?

He needed a way out and she could be the key to his escape.

The woman gazed at him, expression kind, and relayed with voice stern. "Your bravado won't help you with what's to come. The next time you decide to die, you will remain so. No one will be there to save you."

"Is that so?" His eyebrow raised with the question. "Sounds like a threat to me."

Jack turned slowly and faced the woman who stood in the middle of the living room. When she failed to reply, an exasperated sigh followed suit.

"Why am I here?" He asked with more vigour.

Tiredness revealed in his posture. Surviving death seemed to have drained his will to argue, much less antagonize the woman. He wanted nothing more than to sleep off whatever drug was still in his system.

No answer came, so he indulged himself in exploring the interior of the tree house. It held the same dimensions as his cabin, except for the living room and kitchen, which occupied most of the space. Instead of three rooms, there was one main bedroom and another one large enough to hold a bed, and nothing more. One bathroom with all its necessities, situated to his far left.

Overall, it was simplistic, yet elegant in its making. Even the hammock appeared modest on the balcony that extended the width of the house, and reached around its corners to the back.

Movement suddenly drew his attention, his gaze scrutinizing the approaching beauty. Her left hand extended towards his chest and came to rest on his heart. It raced underneath her touch and heat spread along his ribcage. Jack stood astonished, regarding her grey blue eyes. She was treading a fine line he was hesitant to either accept or reject.

"You came for this." Protector said in a gentle tone. A loving smile stretched from ear to ear.

Swallowing nervously, Jack cleared his throat. "I have a heart disease?" He chuckled softly. "Just peachy. And here I thought I was drugged up on something crazy."

Protector laughed, and while removing her hand from his chest said. "No. No, you are here to discover what you are fighting for."

The veteran soldier submitted to her mesmerizing gaze, as it was not every day that a beautiful woman addressed him in such a manner. Therefore, he accepted her consideration and heeded to her reasoning – firstly, because the door had not appeared, and secondly, it had to be another test or trial. Either way, he was stuck. He rather liked the attention.

"Ah, I think I know what I'm fighting for." A smug smile curled his lips. "Been saving my world too." He was definitely acting like a teenager.

"By losing the one thing you should never have given up on."

"Explain?" He softly urged.

A sadness creased Protector's gaze and Jack's charming smile fell.

"You have lost the will to love." Her words hit him like a blow to the stomach, knocking the wind from his sails.

"You're treading dangerous territory, watch what you say next."

He broke the trance, turned, and firmly gripped the deck's railing, stern expression set on the sea. She had no right to stir what did not need stirring, and frankly, her resemblance only complicated the conversation.

 _Breathe Jack just breathe old boy. She's only doing what's expected of her – whatever that may be._

 _Whom am I kidding? It's been one heck of a rollercoaster ride and at some point, it has to stop. Hopefully soon, 'cause she's in uncharted waters and I'm not so sure I want to follow. In my opinion, history stays history and that's what Sam has become._

"Listen," Jack began jaw set along with his gaze. "Where I come from, the military forbids a male and female soldier from having a relationship, especially when you're in the same chain of command. It jeopardizes the rest of the unit; good soldiers die because of partiality. Whatever _fight_ you are referring to ended, because the war we're fighting now is beyond our _love_ for one another. We've accepted it. I even encouraged her to move on; she has, and now she can have what I could never give her. That's why I gave up, as you put it."

 _Wow, did I just say that? There's no way I could have . . ._

He glared at her, eyes reflecting the awkwardness he felt. "You're using some kind of voodoo right?" He chuckled nervously. "'Cause I'm sure I wouldn't have confessed . . . to that."

"So you agree that you once _did fight_ for her affection." Protector said.

O'Neill turned, casually leaned against the railing, and crossed his feet, while he folded his arms over his chest. A sly smile followed in addition to a raised eyebrow.

"It was the other way around; endearing at first, until I saw the truth. C'mon, what man would deny that kind of attention, particularly if said woman is beautiful and smart?" His expression fell, as a certain aching tugged at his heart. "Nor can I deny that I was and . . . still . . . might . . ." His brow furrowed as he fought the next involuntary declaration. ". . . I am fond of her."

 _Crap!_

 _Dang, that shouldn't have happened. There's no way I would've confessed to this, to anyone, not even myself. It's like a truth serum is running through my veins, forcing me to open my mouth and speak. I hate this!_

 _Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!_

 _Everything's the wrong way around for crying out loud!_

"Good, that's a start!" Protector stated confidently.

She knew O'Neill's confession was unintentional. Unfortunately, it was a main factor since entering this world – the Colonel had no option, he was to let go of the things he usually kept to himself.

Jack's head jerked up from where he had stared at the wooden floor. "What?" He questioned gruffly.

The woman disregarded his outburst, strolled towards him, and touched his shoulder. O'Neill schooled an angry glare; he was finished with this, no sentimental confessions, no _stoking the fire_. Yet it seemed she had other plans, for his world blurred and clear conception faded away like the setting sun over the horizon.

At that point, the memories began. Flashbacks Jack O'Neill could not control, only submit to as it reeled in his dreams.


	9. Chapter 9 - Raw Truths in Remembrances

[Updated 29/08/2017]

 **Chapter Nine: ****RAW Truths in Remembrances**

The Colonel's world blurred and clear conception faded away like the setting sun over the horizon. At that point, the memories began. Flashbacks Jack O'Neill could not control, only submit to as it reeled in his dreams.

* * *

[ **Year One** ]

 _With the team newly formed, I knew we would struggle to get proper footing, figuratively speaking. Teal'c was a former First Prime to Apophis. Daniel lost his wife to the same Goa'uld. Sam, she was fresh off the block in terms of Gate travel – in the military she was a Captain eager to prove herself. Then there was me, not a stranger to what was out there in the Universe, recently divorced, and still mourning the death of my son._

 _Details, which failed to calm my nerves or my concern._

 _Sam went missing in the dead of night, probably sold as a slave to the opposing Mongol chief. Whom I had heard did not treat his women so nicely._

' _How dare he take a member of my team?' I thought then._

 _Wasn't the world past this barbaric behaviour – America was, but some countries still considered their women as slaves, nothing more than possessions._

 _And I loathed it._

 _I should have been more protective, regardless of her encouragement that she was okay. I should have insisted, checked up on her during the celebration. However, we had tread upon another man's territory and culture, and due to the valuable medical supplies this Shavadia could provide, the team had to obey and follow their rules. Obviously, Daniel's 'study' reasoning also had won the argument. That, and frankly, the beauty of a blue dress Sam had to wear._

 _It had definitely solidified our stay._

 _When the four of us stood in the tent negotiating with Turgen, I realized the significance of Sam's worth in the team, her worth to me as her C.O. I was willing to increase the price until we got her back safe and sound, but the filth of a man refused to surrender, and I offered him my Beretta instead. He was firstly a warrior thirsty for action, for power, he would take it without hesitation and so he did._

 _We had achieved our objective – Sam was safe and within my care . . . SG1's care._

 _The sudden tension built up through the day had dissipated as the distance grew between the camp and us._ _That night we all sat around the fire, the Captain confessing how glad she was to see us and I just couldn't resist teasing her. Her smile was so . . . infectious._ _Yes, her smile was contagious . . . as were her blues eyes, youthful glow, and confidence. Until she decided, she would fight for the women's freedom – for both tribes offensive and defensive._

 _Oy! She was a brave one and I couldn't help but back her up, especially when she challenged the man who had bought her. I was suddenly proud of her and I could understand why she had joined Stargate Command – a brave firecracker only wanting my approval. I was her hero._

 _A hero . . . in some way, it felt good to know, but I also knew not to encourage it. I was a Colonel, she a Captain – I had to make sure that we stayed within those ranks._

 _Once again, tension wrapped around my emotions; her safety was on the line, again._ _She assured she would be okay, and strangely enough, I believed her. Then knives got involved and my heart raced like rapid M60 fire. I wasn't ready to explain to her next of kin that I had allowed her to fight till the death for somebody's freedom._

 _I gripped my weapon, wincing, angry that I couldn't use it._

 _She fought like an intelligent fighter and her victory came as no surprise._ _Dang! She earned another level of respect from me and I earned a whopping smile in return._

 _I won't lie; her behaviour caused more harm than good in our first year. Some days it was appealing and on some, it was not._

 _And, I couldn't ignore the fact that she was growing on me_ _._

* * *

[ **Year Two** ]

 _I was pinned against the wall. As if the message in the bottle had decided, I was the perfect donkey to pin its tail on. I was a living breathing pincushion and it hurt. Not a little bit, not like a mosquito bite, no, it hurt worse than a damn bullet. It hurt worse than a heartache, worse than life itself._

 _I couldn't decide if death was the only thing that could save me or the submission to the odd sensation it had injected into my body upon impact._

 _In that moment, I could barely make out the audience watching me. They were too stunned to realize what the stupid ball with arrows had done. It was a massive threat, and as such, I treated it, when Teal'c approached. I wanted to kill it (with a vengeance). Whatever_ _it_ _was, it needed to go, take its horrendous pain with it._

 _T took off like a cheetah after its prey, and then my audience came to, scrambling about like headless chickens._

 _I shouted and screamed bloody murder; sweat and tears streamed down my face as I hung like a wounded piñata. Ironic, one pole had already opened a gap in this delicate Minnesotan, what was a few more?_

 _The S.G.C. chickens filtered into the Gate Room, with Sam leading them. By then, I was too angry to notice her concern, too numb to be thankful, 'cause I knew. I knew they couldn't help me. Frankly, I didn't want their help. Teal'c was the one I had requested, not them. This was a brutal attack and I needed him to be ruthless as well._

" _Where's Teal'c?" I growled furiously, while Fraser and Sam offered comfort._

' _No comfort needed here . . .' I shouted within, but they were oblivious as to what was really happening, regardless of their assessments._

 _They could not know the pole was hot as hell and with this tremendous heat, came more pain that was excruciating. Heck, I could not understand it either, and fear encompassed my mind and filtered into my emotions._

 _Everything within me fought an unknown incident, trying hard to comprehend what it was rejecting. I channelled this bombarding confusion, pain, and fear into the Jaffa's name, shouting now with more vigour and urgency. I wanted it to stop. I begged it to stop._

 _It did not . . . for a long while – it felt like hours as it gradually consumed my will, emotions and lastly, my mind. My body did not matter; it was the first to go. I felt numb – a half-dead soldier, a puppet on a string, struggling to obey its master, hating every bit of it._

 _Events twisted and turned, warped into a blur, as if I was looking through a grimy window. This clouded my mind as it drifted in a thick blanket crushing down on my strategic thoughts. Nothing could out manoeuvre it; nothing could release its hold on me._

 _Except for what followed next . . ._

 _I felt a gentle touch on my knee and a soft hand in mine. The mention of my rank pierced through, like light reaching its way beyond the unknown. The familiar voice came again, slivering through my emotions and mind. It felt so good, I wanted to cry, sob like a woman who just gave birth to a beautiful baby._

 _Sam's voice was like honey while she explained something to me. She was asking for my surrender, to entrust my life to her._ _During the contest, during my stubbornness, I knew she would find a way and she had, irrespective of the undercurrent of doubt I heard in her voice. I trusted her, wanted her to be correct, needed her to save me, 'cause I couldn't fight anymore._

 _I squeezed her hand yielding my life to her, not because it was an insane request, which should have been termed as asinine, but due to the artefact's influence. It wanted what she had requested._

 _In the end, I had survived the strange and ferocious impaling and I had discovered the strength of those surrounding me, especially that of Sam Carter._

 _Ah, nuts! I was in trouble._

* * *

[ **Year Three** ]

" _We just want you to go AWAY!" I shouted with cold anger._

 _Hathor toppled over the railing and fell into the freezing pit below. Finally, she was dead, gone with the wind, pushing up daisies._

 _I watched for a while, confounded that it had actually happened._

 _Hathor was dead! Revenge best served cold and she was feeling it all right. It was sweet bliss until I remembered why I had done it. I had fought off the beast, tearing her away from my 2IC and had defeated the snakehead, for the last time._

 _A victory I would gladly share at the end of this puzzling mission._

 _To my right, Carter lay on the floor barely moving. I knelt down beside her and jerked her upright, checking that she was alright, 'cause I sure wasn't. The one minute I had a snake in my head and the next I was fine. It was disconcerting, a freaking wonder I was still Jack O'Neill._

 _Perplexed blues eyes examined me. "Sir, what happened?" She asked confused._

 _Relief flooded my insides as I embraced her, holding on as tightly as I could. I was alive, she was alive, – we were alive. Breathing, we were breathing._

" _Hathor…is….ha…gone." I swallowed deeply as bile rose in the back of my throat._

 _Secretly, I was thankful that I was shaking involuntarily. It hid my real fear; being someone, I clearly_ _did not_ _want to be – a nasty snakehead. Fearful I would be fighting against my team and not with them. Concerned, I wouldn't be able to back them up. Instead, I would be killing good, faithful soldiers. I would rather die myself than let that happen._

" _What about you?" She whispered breathless._

 _I quickly informed her: "I'm…cold…a little…chilly. But….I'm me. I'm me."_

 _The lingering nauseating feeling slowly vanished. With Carter in my arms, I knew I was myself. I was Jack O'Neill, weak and vulnerable, and I was thankful she was the person seeing me like this._

 _In that precious moment, we were both each other's security, albeit a few minutes._

* * *

[ **Year Four** ]

 _Metal sliding against metal reverberated behind me as the Gate shield slid tightly shut. Carter stood in front of me on the ramp, scowling at me, whilst the faint sound of a body hitting the shield echoed in my ears._

 _Behind her, stood the rest of my team, Siler and General Hammond, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of Carter. Hammond said something in the background and I agreed all the while staring into her blue eyes, which briefly flitted between the 'Gate and mine._

 _Disappointment flooded my insides._

 _For the first time, it silenced me, silenced my 2IC, Teal'c and Daniel. There was nothing left to say and it engulfed the space we were standing in._

 _Everyone knew our mission had failed – we had failed to acquire the technology the Eurodans so freely offered us. Everything had been a mess, and my team split in opinions – not what I had wanted when we returned from missions, especially with Carter looking at me the way she did. She had stood by me through the whole thing loyal as a dove. However, I had turned her into a serpent by commanding her to follow my orders._

 _I had let her down, let myself down._

 _A rock formed in the pit of my stomach. Her gaze penetrated through my military veneer; ensnared between begging for forgiveness and explaining myself. Yet nothing came and neither did she say anything._

 _If I understood this correctly, she was stunned and at a loss for words. As was I, and I disliked it. I always had something to say whether it was a joke or a provocation._

" _We'll debrief in one hour." Hammond said._

 _"Yes, Sir." I replied._

 _Carter's eyes stayed on me as the soldiers gradually left the room. It tore through me, slicing like a sharp double-edged sword and I let it, because I deserved it. I surrendered to every unspoken word and every raw filled emotion, allowing it to tear to pieces the thoughts concerning the mission, thoughts concerning what was developing between us._

 _Once I zoned back to reality, her boots echoed down the ramp, her back turned towards me, even as the image of her gaze plagued my conscience. It was no surprise when guilt clawed at me. I had shown her a side of me that would haunt her, 'cause the consequences of my decision would definitely stay with me for a long time. So would her shock._

 _It would plague my dreams forever._

* * *

[ **Year Five** ]

 _I heard Carter's terrified voice, her tussle on a gurney, and then muffled voices. I burst through the door to find two doctors standing over her. The Major was desperately trying to get away, however couldn't, as her hands were cuffed to the bed's railing. The one Doctor had a big honking needle in his hand, and then I knew, if I were a fraction too late, she would have been done with, gone forever._

 _She would have been a miserable loss to me, and a painful memory to those at the S.G.C._

 _Fear tore at me in that moment and I did the first thing that came to mind. I shouted with gun raised in aggression, "Hold on! Drop it! Drop it, right now! Don't even fool around!_ ** _Put_** _it down!" I shoved my gun against the nearest doctor and shoved him and his co-worker in Harry's direction._

 _I briefly noted how he pinned them against the wall, and then looked at Carter, "Are you alright?"_

 _She was breathless from the wrestle, but like a good soldier she answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Very dramatic thank you."_

 _"You bet." I said, comforted that she was out of harm's way._

 _Her gaze drifted from mine in the direction of the Doctors then back to me, "Keys to the cuffs are in his pocket."_

 _Harry grabbed them, threw it over and I un-cuffed her hands, a reassured smile gracing my lips as I did so. It was indeed a huge relief to know the Major would be by my side once more._

* * *

 _Later, laying in the infirmary, the repercussions of my actions hit me like those two bullets – one hit my vest saving me as I did Carter, but the other one wounded my arm mirroring the escape of the Goa'uld._

 _I admit, I was dramatic, over the top bad ass, which was Carter's fault or rather the now snakehead, Conrad, that drew it out of me. Again, I was in a situation where I had to place her well-being over the apprehension of said rat._

 _For crying out loud! Concern rippled through me like ocean waves from the get-go, going as far as to involve Harry Maybourne – the slickest serpentine and spook the N.I.D had ever created. Even Frank Simmons, Harry's recruit was in the mix. That's how far I went to rescue Carter. How much I had allowed the concern to drive and compel me to fulfil the goal._

 _Gazing at her where she now stood across from me, understanding struck me at how desperate I really was; how far I went, arranging a SWAT team to be on standby before we infiltrated the deserted Hospital. All to rescue her, which was funny, 'cause I was the one carried out on a stretcher._ _Carter walked out unscathed, happy as can be, although a little shaken by what had happened, but her old self – beautiful, intelligent, and vibrant._

 _However thankful she was for the rescue, she bottom-lined it for us. The outcome was dangerous – an enemy had escaped and it was my fault for placing her life before the mission._

 _Those weren't her exact words, but my thoughts and what I had seen in her eyes. Whenever her safety was involved, I just could not win. There were consequences, and when I look back at all the things I had done for her sake as well as for the team, I would not change a thing._

 _She was without a doubt worth it! SG1 was worth it!_

 _(Truthfully, I would've gone_ _way_ _past my morals to rescue her.)_

* * *

[ **Year Six** ]

" _So, set the timer for five minutes."_

 _I placed my left hand over my right and showed three minutes instead. I could see Carter's recoiling expression. She disagreed with my decision. In fact, I could sense her need to disobey it._

 _She stared at my hand. "That's cutting it awfully close, Sir." Then she gazed into my eyes, her tone of voice and piercing eyes relaying her disapproval._

 _I breathed in, kept my stern expression, drilling her with my eyes and sternly said, "I know that, Major."_

 _She gave the Replicator beside her a fake smile. "Thank you." She supplied._

 _"You won't leave without me?" He said._

 _"No," Her smile faded during Fifth's innocent reply and her gaze shortly fell in guilt, but then quickly recuperated, explaining to him what he should do._

 _That was the last time we saw the Replicator, as we bee lined it out of there for the Ship._

 _Three minutes later, the time dilation field activated, and we were safely in space; however, my decision haunted me. I sat for a while thinking and rethinking what I had done. What I had asked Carter to do. In my mind's eye, these human-form Replicators posed a more dangerous threat than their bug counterparts did._

 _I had done the right thing. We had done the right thing. If not, the consequences of our actions, my actions would have been life threatening. Earth and the Milky Way would never be the same again._

 _Jonas disagreed, accusing that we had used their humanity against them. 'They weren't!' My mind screamed. They were a threat, and threats like these we neutralized._

 _I stared at Jonas, angry, "His what?" My expression dark._

 _"Jonas is right. It's exactly what we did." Carter agreed._

 _I could hear the disappointment in her voice._

 _I side glanced to the left, where she was sitting at the communication's station. She refused to look me in the eye. Therefore, I justified my order, whilst scowling at her. "He wasn't human." My gaze turned to Jonas as I continued, "Get that through your heads."_

 _"You could have fooled me."_

 _Carter's voice was so soft and bitter. It stung my ears and I turned my full attention on her. Her blue eyes stared at the console, but I could see her anger. It was personal, which made it even more uncomfortable for me to address her._

" _We all know what would have happened if those things had gotten out."_

 _Her jaw was set as she fought hard to avoid eye contact. I carried on regardless, addressing Jonas, "Who's gonna stop them? We did the right thing."_

 _My serious tone had suddenly disappeared, tired and let down by their convictions._

" _I hope you're right, Sir." Jonas' sad tone came through barely audible, as did Carter's, "So do I."_

 _Was I really the villain in this story? Did I really have to defend . . . hell, justify my decision? Carter, of all people should have understood that what we saw and experienced was nothing more than robots. They were Reese – the Replicator who had thrown Daniel against a wall for proving that she was not human._ _Carter was there, agreed to shut her down, now she defended one._

 _Was I missing something? From experience, from the Asgard's mistakes, she should have known better. Now why could I understand this mess and be the only voice of reason?_

 _This time round, I supported my order, however . . ._

 _I was saddened that Carter would second-guess my authority, my credibility as her C.O. and friend. I guess, after Daniel's ascension and my part in it, she still secretly blamed me._

 _So, was I naïve to think that after six years, she would understand how I operated and thought? That, what I had done then, and now, was for the greater good. No, this time I did not feel guilty nor would I hold it against her. We have the right to have a difference in opinion. I just hope it won't come back to haunt us._

 _Truthfully, I had been cruelly stung, making a way for uncertainty to enter into my mind, my heart._

 _Was she still important to me?_

 _Her thoughts were._

 _I suppose I had solved my own doubt then._

* * *

[ **Year Seven** ]

 _We were at it again, the Major AWOL, and me, desperately lagging behind._

 _It had turned into a race with her in the lead, the Kull warrior second and Teal'c and I bringing up the rear. I struggled to comprehend the predicament – uncertain that she was still alive and that what we were hunting was another dead body._ _How could I think like that, for crying out loud? Honestly, we had to stop doing this. We really had to stop rescuing one another._

 _Nonetheless, I kept going, driven by what was chasing her. It wasn't a thief, nor the Jaffa we normally encountered, but a drone soldier, the same warrior, we, as a unit, failed to defeat a mere month ago. They were super Goa'ulds. Monsters in battle suits, ruthless and inhumane – it sent my heart beating like an unrestrained vehicle._

 _What would happen at the end of this pursuit?_

 _Would the prototype weapon created by the Major for said warrior actually work?_

 _What if I found a dead Sam Carter?_

 _My pulse thrummed as a drummer boy's drum in my ears._

 _I had to find out if what my heart was shouting was indeed truthful or what my mind thought was incorrect. I refused to accept the latter, 'cause it would suffocate me; squeeze the life from my body._

 _I allowed anger, anguish, and fear to fuel my emotions, allowed it to burst through my soul like the adrenaline coursing through my system, determined not to surrender. I was resolute to prove my thoughts wrong, 'as she was a resourceful soldier._

 _She would survive._

 _I was certain of it._

* * *

 _My heart was spot on, as usual, justified as the assailant fell down in the dirt after two shots._ _Man, it felt good, as tension and fear fell away like severed restraints._

 _I looked upon her as she huddled behind the boulder. Her expression set on the fallen warrior._

" _Is it?" She asked tiresomely, not bothered to complete her question as she looked up at me._

 _"Yeah, he's dead . . ." I assured._

 _Her gaze faltered as she briefly nodded. I regarded her for a few seconds, grateful that she was alive, before asking the Jaffa. "Right Teal'c, he's dead?" Teal'c kicked the soldier, and then curtly nodded._

" _Yeah, he's dead." I said in her direction._

 _Carter nodded her approval, turned her back on the dead soldier, and leaned against the boulder,. Compassion surged within me in that moment. "You wanna get up?" I gently questioned._

 _She shook her head, "I just need to rest for a minute." I looked at her as she tried to catch her breath. She was exhausted._

 _I sat down beside her, noting her far off expression. I couldn't imagine what she had gone through, what she had suffered in order to survive. She had fought till the end, despite her injuries, despite her exhaustion. I couldn't help but think whom she had done it for, her father, Pete, the team?_

 _I pushed the thoughts aside and did the only thing I knew I could – comfort her, let her know she was fine. "C'mere." My arm curled around her and she melted into my side, resting her head on my shoulder._

 _For how long we sat in that position, I didn't know, but I wouldn't let go until the medics arrived. She deserved every bit of security and reassurance I could give her. Heck, she needed it just as much I did._

* * *

[ **Two weeks ago** ]

 _Carter stood before me, eyes glistening as she fought back tears. Her effort faded though, for they slowly fell from her blue eyes and gently trickled down her cheeks. Her strength to compose herself, failed miserably. She not only cried for Janet's death, but for the idea that I could have died as well._

 _I allowed her gratefulness for my life to sink in deep, yearning to embrace her, yearning to comfort and protect her from what she was suffering. I've been there before, knew how it felt to lose someone._

 _Her sorrow pulled me in and I woefully submitted. I did not stop from approaching her, nor did I counter the compassion and heartache consuming me. It gradually revealed on my face, as I opened my heart to her, to her loss, to our loss of a friend._

 _We both stood inches away, gazing at one another._

 _Her expression revealed what was in her heart, not caring that she was vulnerable. While I took in every detail, and seared it into my mind and heart, I myself neither cared that I was vulnerable._

 _I gave her what we both wanted with one word, "C'mere." And with one action._

 _I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her. She accepted the embrace and held on tightly as if it were a dream. As if she tried to convince herself, it was not her imagination playing tricks with her._

 _Turning my face into her neck, I confirmed it was true, that I was sincere and real, for my care for her had never been pretend. Since our first year, it was and would always be the raw truth – Samantha Carter had crawled her way into my heart and would remain there forever._

* * *

Colonel Jack O'Neill woke up with a brook of tears flowing down his cheeks.

Embarrassed, he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand, and then followed the action with his fingertips. They stayed there on the bridge of his nose, as he tried to fight through the haze in his mind. Next, he pressed his palms against his eyes, treating them as he did a soldier, commanding them to stall, forcing them to stop leaking.

Jack's heart had other plans though, overtaking his actions and nibbling at his emotions like a caterpillar a leaf, as he ached for the love and care he had deprived himself of for years.

O'Neill suddenly stilled and surrendered to the pining, his body shaking as it consumed every fibre of his being. His tough exterior which consisted of boldness, confidence, and resigned demeanour crumbled in that moment, for what he had hidden inside burst through his shell, softly seeping through the cracks.

He had not wept like this since the death of his son, someone whom he still dearly loved.

A soft moan slipped through his lips as the memories flooded his mind.

 _What I wouldn't give to go back and change things, just to say I love you once more. To change what had happened that day._

Flitting back to the memories of Sam Carter, a sorrow filled groan reverberated in his chest.

Arms enveloped him from behind. The warmth of the embrace was intoxicating, comforting, and supportive. He leaned into it, revelling in the way it made him feel, absorbing it as if he was a sponge.

He had missed this.

Jack turned in the embrace, eyes meeting those of Protector's. He was lost, confused and her gaze seemed to draw him in like a magnet. He was swimming in something incredible he argued, justifying his action as he leaned in.

Protector anticipated his advance, placing her hand on his lips.

"My heart is not yours to have." Her words dripped with rejection and so did her standing up.

"You comforted me!" Jack chided. "What did you expect?" His eyes narrowed with the question.

Sympathy washed over her as she observed him. He sat on the bed, clearly tormented by the remembrances in his dreams.

"I expected nothing. I only did what I would do for anyone in pain." She sighed. "I had not realized the extent of your emotional state."

"Yeah," He chuckled under his breath. "Neither did I." His hands covered his face, hiding the shame bubbling within. Clearly, he had made a fool of himself.

"I do not blame you, Jack O'Neill. You hide your feelings very well. It was a battle to extract the proper memories, yet, once you opened your heart, they gushed like a fountain." His hands fell away, gawking. The woman continued, "Truthfully, no one will ever ignite the same kind of passion as Sara O'Neill did. Nevertheless, from the memories chosen, you _do_ feel a great deal for this woman."

"You put me through hell!" Jack gave her a dark look not hiding how he truly felt about the intrusion.

"I merely followed what was already there, which clearly revealed doubt, truth, and fear."

"That's invasion of my privacy!" Jack stood from the bed, stepping towards her in a demanding fashion. "You have no right!" He spat.

In response, she backed away through the open door and disappeared from view, leaving behind a livid soldier.

He turned a darker shade of red, thinking, _how dare you? Who gave you permission to poke your nose into my business?_ Without hesitation, O'Neill followed suit, his boots echoing loudly on the wooden floor. As he exited through the door, the world instantly faded to black and morphed into a misty forest.

"Dammit!" The Colonel exclaimed, frustration slowly simmering within him.


	10. Chapter 10 - Run Boy, Run

[Updated 30/08/2017]

 **Chapter Ten** **: Run Boy, Run**

O'Neill rested his chin on his chest, placed hands on his hips, and closed his eyes. A stifled exasperated sigh followed as he fought against the raging war inside of him. His thoughts and emotions were all over the place. They were like tidal waves tossing back and forth, while he, the dinghy, fought to stay afloat.

Slowly but surely, he opened his eyelids, lifted his head and gazed about the area.

Heavy mist stretched in all directions obscuring his vision. Amidst it, thin tall trees disappeared into the blanket up above, while moss and lone barbed branches protruding here and there, covered them from root until where the descended cloud began. A dense carpet of shrubbery mixed with ferns and moss encompassed the muddy forest floor, accompanied with some dead tree trunks, crawling with insects.

No footpath visible and no signs of life either.

To Jack it was nothing new, he had seen his fair share of forests, chased his fair share of Jaffa through them too. Trees, trees and more trees, it wasn't extravagant nor was it a pretty picture.

Before him on the ground, stood a large bottle of water along with a bundle, its four corners tied up with a red cord. This he surmised to be supplies and as if on cue, his stomach growled. He could not remember the last time he had eaten, or sat down to assess things without fighting for his life, or enduring pressure to face his past. The last experience still clung to his consciousness, and he really hated lingering. Some things were off-limits, the previous topic included.

His boots progressed forward, stopped alongside the supplies. The bottle was the first thing chosen as it drifted from the ground, lid detached with a pop, and the liquid spilled down his throat, washing away the dryness on his palate and clenching his thirst. After three large swigs, the water bottle received its lid and descended back to its place.

O'Neill's back muscles protested as his one knee made an indent in the clammy soil. His slender fingers grabbed the one end of the red cord and pulled, quivering slightly as it resisted, then suddenly released as it submitted to the process. Three corners of the bundle sunk down, while the fourth one followed suit and fell in the opposite direction creating a gap to observe the contents. Jack unfolded the rest of the corners, noting that the bundle's brownish material was large enough to sit on. The damp spot forming on his knee settled the consideration, so he quickly removed the contents and spread the metre-by-metre cloth on the ground. Before taking a seat, the Colonel scanned the surroundings, and after confirming he was the only one there, sank down into a seated position. The Berretta rustled as it left its holster and moved down to the cloth next to his relaxed leg, whilst his left knee remained propped up.

The food lay scattered before him – freshly baked bread already smeared with butter, native fruits resembling apples, berries and pears, a mixture of nuts and dry meat sliced in jerky pieces. All of which was neatly wrapped in their own separate bags, large enough to resemble earth's version of a medium sized paper bag.

 _Not too savvy, just hope it's not my last meal._

A thin smile quirked his lips, as he tilted the bag with nuts into his right palm. Rustling followed suit combined with an instantaneous stomach growl.

 _Yeah, yeah, be patient._

Leaning back, Jack threw a few nuts into his mouth, savouring the taste as he chewed.

 _Must be off the top nuts if I'm chatting to myself._

The munching stopped shortly thereafter, _how do I even know if what I'm eating is real? Could be rocks or sand . . . ooo, I know, monkey nuts._

A slight cough worked its way through his lips as O'Neill stifled a laugh and coinciding choke. His mind had showed him something he really did not want to know, for he tossed the remaining nuts back in the packet, and grabbed a fruit instead.

 _No harm in a fruit, is there?_

O'Neill cursed under his breath as Snow White immediately came to mind, and before he could put a stop to it, a few more children's stories bombarded his mind, including Goldilocks, Hansel, Gretel, and Aladdin.

"Oy!" His left hand collided with his forehead in annoyance, and then his fingers glided down his face, as he glanced the forest. _Or Red Riding Hood!_

"Well done Jack ol' boy, you've just spoiled your own lunch." O'Neill mocked as he observed the apple shaped fruit in disgust and placed it back with the others.

The meat and bread remained, but he had suddenly lost his appetite. It seemed as if the fairy-tale recollections had reminded him of his predicament – amidst a cacophony of scenarios, he felt truly lost, and he despised it, just like he did this encased woodland. It may be quiet, but in the silence, a battle raged profoundly within his soul.

The soldier knew something or someone outside of this disorientated world was manipulating him, forcing him to face things he normally managed with efficient self-control. He failed to pinpoint the source. He was stuck in the dark, on the hunt for a needle in a haystack. An impossible task, since it was a blind man's pursuit.

A slight quiver rippled through his body, which was nothing new for the veteran. Jack O'Neill was familiar with physical pain; accustomed to enduring emotional distress, however, the application of said trauma was agonizingly painful. Experiencing frequent and diverse feelings both internally and externally, he felt like a tempest. A storm created by something beyond his understanding, beyond his natural ability to survive. Everything that was Jonathan Jack O'Neill had come alive in this deranged world. He hoped SG1 had escaped this pain, he did not wish it upon either of them or anyone else.

Jack exhaled loudly, shattering his self-pity and quickly changed the subject. Smiling slyly, he gazed at the murky treetops.

"Ya know. You're getting sloppy in your transitions." He taunted. "Don't blame ya; I am a tough nut to crack."

"Jonathannnnn!" His first name came from the west, slivering through the forest.

Frozen to the spot, his heart skipped a beat, whilst gooseflesh cascaded his body. After calming himself, O'Neill swallowed hard, and then coolly replied.

"Haven't heard that name in a while. Must have dug rather deep to find it." Laughter rattled in his chest, "No surprise there." His expression snarled as he shouted in irritation, "Apparently, I'm an open book!"

"SSSSStand!" The snakelike voice sternly demanded.

"I'm fine thank you. Heard resting is good for the soul."

A sardonic smile covered the truth as Jack contained the trepidation he faced. The ghostly voice had travelled through landscape and flesh alike as if it alone existed, and _he_ was the hindrance.

 _Go on ahead and make me. I'm_ _so_ _not the intruder here, more like a prisoner._

All of a sudden, the Protector's soft warning echoed in his mind, _"Your bravado won't help you with what's to come. The next time you decide to die, you will remain so."_

 _Okay, so maybe I shouldn't taunt the beast._

"Run . . . run . . . runnnnnn!" The voice softly recited from the south. "Run booooy! Run Jaaackkkk! Run . . . run . . . run . . . ruuunnnn!"

The ghoulish mantra ended a pitch higher, sounding as if came it from its throat. The hair on his neck raised in concordance, and grabbing for his sidearm, he cocked it.

A fresh bout of fear triggered within.

His head jerked to the right, eyes expanding in distress, for the sudden sound of an army stomping the mud, reverberated underneath him, and reverberated within his inert body. Paralysed, Jack frantically combed the obscure forest with his weapon. He saw nobody within the mist, which had heedlessly thickened around him, the trees nothing more than shadowy sticks.

The dampened thumping continued as the chanting fell in with its rhythm. "Jaaaackkk! Ruuuuunnnn! Run . . . run . . . runnnn . . . booooy!" Gaining in momentum, it changed in direction, coming from the east then from the north.

 _What the_. . . Jack screamed on the inside.

An unforeseen streak blurred to the north in the depths of the murky forest, finally beckoning the Colonel to his feet. The gun hastily trailed behind.

To his left, another dark streak ran by and the weapon jerked in its direction. It was so fast, Jack had no time to aim or focus on what he had spotted.

In the background, the chilling voice, and marching continued, until another voice joined the mocking, resounding from a fourth streak. "JAAAACCCKKK!"

"RUUUNNNN!" Another voice added from the south, sounding closer than the previous one.

His fear increased, squeezing the air from his lungs. His breathing racked his body, shoulders rising and falling in conjunction with the panic tearing at his psyche. Sweat now beaded his forehead and ran down his cheeks, whilst he wildly reacted to the provoking voices. They seemed to increase once the main voice reiterated its mantra, the trudging still undaunted in the backdrop.

"RUNNNN!" Cried one deep voice.

"JAAACKKKK!" A female called out.

"BOOOOY!" Growled another fierce voice.

Caught between the mocking and the blurring streaks, Jack desperately sought to shield his ears and scream at the top of his lungs. Shout for it to stop, implore for his sanity. Yet nothing materialised. He remained stagnant.

 _Have to focus._

The thought repeated in his mind, as his eyes darted from left to right in pursuit of the smudges, when something in his mind snapped like a fraught cord, and he did what the voices demanded. He sprinted from his spot, the soles of his boots slipping on the mossy forest floor, and he ran thoughtless not knowing who followed, not caring if he got struck in the process. He needed to escape, get as far away as possible.

Feet resembling a fleeing deer and body impersonating a chasing jaguar, he ran for his life, like the wind. His beating heart drilled his chest, rapid breathing echoed loudly in his sphere, and his muscles moved as if a wound up toy.

The forest reeled by in a blur, the stomping faded away, leaving behind the slivering voice and tracking streaks in the shadows. All the while Jack O'Neill yelled desperately in his mind, frightened, frantic, and ensnared.

 _Run, run, run, run_ . . . _Jack!_


	11. Chapter 11 - Within the Lion's Den

[Updated 30/08/2017]

 **Chapter Eleven** **: Within the Lion's Den**

Haran dismounted before the mouth of the cave, tugged the reins over the mustang's head and rubbed the bridge of its nose in adoration.

 _Assassins and caves, are we to expect Batman anytime soon?_ Sam thought to herself, while staring at the arrogant leader.

His gaze elicited a certain unease within her that slowly boiled in irritation. She deliberately showed the disgust on her facial features, and Teal'c too mirrored the same type of hostility. He disliked the manner in which Haran observed the Major, and made it known by moving closer to her. A brief smile curled her lips, but then quickly disappeared as the leader beckoned the group to follow.

Once inside, the Major noted a stone covered tunnel. Attached to its ceiling on the right, was a rope, which extended from the entrance into the depths unknown. Lanterns dangled from it every five metres, illuminating the way.

The journey was silent except for their shoes echoing underneath them. They had an eerie ring and it aggravated in annoyance.

 _If we don't find the Colonel soon . . ._ Sam stopped the thought once more. She could not understand her determination to use brutal force. She knew if she was patient enough the solution would present itself. That was what she convinced herself to believe from the moment of his disappearance. She wanted to throw caution to wind, but Daniel and Teal'c remained steadfast in their demeanour, treating this mission like any other.

 _The activation of the dais and the Colonel's vanishing: it's definitely linked somehow. Without a doubt. We had reacted in a similar fashion, both lost in some sort of spell; explains why I have this need to rescue him._

 _It may be that what I'm sensing is what the Colonel's facing at the moment – a clear sense of frustration, and it won't be the first time he's felt this way. Stop it, Samantha! Pull yourself together. You're not linked, just upset. Teal'c and Danny, they're also upset, no need to analyse this._

Carter shook herself free from the lurking panic and noted the change in scenery.

They had entered a hundred metre boxed corridor, encased by blackish metal. Shafts of daylight entered through the ceiling in ten-metre intervals, making it seem like depressed guillotine blades. Dust particles freely danced within these shafts.

Up ahead, Sam observed Haran as he quietly led the horse, and disappeared behind a curtain of light, as if Thor had beamed him away. Yet once they passed through the same curtain, the warrior appeared again in a dimly lit profile.

At the end of the corridor, two soldiers parted double doors with ease, revealing what appeared to be a large industrial warehouse. A cargo plane's hangar would fit comfortably within its dimensions and no one would find it.

The guards ushered SG1 past the threshold and halted, allowing the team to examine the spacious area.

The complete left side instantly grabbed Sam's attention, her eyes observing men, women, and children separated in to five groups of ten, situated between five different arenas. Sections that consisted of sparring, handgun training, archery, sword fighting, and an exercise Sam dubbed as a mixture of gymnastics and climbing. Her eyes squinted, for beyond this was a large space cordoned with wooden walls, reminding her of a training scenario in Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six, a video game she'd briefly seen her nephew play. This one however, was a testing ground suited for applying all five fighting categories in combination.

On the right side, erected stalls with canvas tops covered the space from corner to corner. Each of which contained fresh goods – native vegetables, meats, fruits, spices, enough to feed at least two hundred mouths. To Carter's immediate right, she saw a teenage boy escorting Haran's horse alongside a pitched tent, and then disappear to where she surmised were the booths for the stallions.

The team were lost in a daze for a few minutes, absorbing the nomadic lifestyle. Daniel mentally combing through the history of Japan, which resembled the age of assassins, Teal'c evaluating the enemy's strengths and weaknesses, and Carter, fascinated by the sky up above.

"Aah, I see your eyes have found a precious jewel." The leader declared proudly.

Her vision flitted from where a cloud drifted by to Haran, her expression neutral as not to encourage him in any way. As handsome as he may be, Sam was glad she belonged to someone else.

His right hand panned the air above as he spoke, "A strong thick glass covers the whole area shedding the clan in beautiful sunshine by day, and a soft artificial glow by night."

Her fascinated blues followed the gesture and came to rest on his. "It's one way?" She asked, satisfying her technical mind.

A curt nod confirmed her assumption and elicited many others. Sudden guilt surged within, and she swallowed, reigning in those scientific impulses. The Colonel's well-being surpassed this discovery, but she could not help but think how this would aide earth's defences.

"Samantha." Haran purred as he extended his hand in her direction.

A shiver ran down her spine.

"There is something I would like to show you. It will make this fascination seem meek in comparison." His coaxing voice awoke gooseflesh on her skin, making her hair stand on end.

 _No way in hell, am I going with you, Harry._

Teal'c came to her rescue, words like a mallet, "We go as a team, or we don't go at all."

Haran cackled, eyes sparkling. "It seems your guardian disagrees with my invitation."

"So do I." Carter countered with a stern tone, jaw set.

At her reply, the warrior's expression twisted in irritation. "You are in my domain and utterly outnumbered. You will do as I say and leave when I deem necessary."

"I have a conflict with that statement." Daniel spoke up, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Of course you do, Dr Jackson." Haran eyed him with a raised brow, matching the archaeologist's' smile. "Your leader will activate the Ring within a few hours. If you fail to respond, he will send more men with strict instructions not to approach the dais." A sneer curled his lips enjoying the team's shocked expressions. "They will search the canyon, find nothing, and then return from whence they came. You see, we only make ourselves known when and how we choose. They would be fortunate to leave with their lives intact." He opened his arms, gesturing at the displeased Doctor and Jaffa, "You will remain here, and you . . ." Then he motioned at Sam, stating with authority, ". . . will come with me."

* * *

After the team's separation, bitterness clung to the Major like a wet garment, hiding the resentment she felt towards the clan leader. She was no toy, nor was she a lamb he could guide wherever he wished. If he knew her like SG1 did, he would know he was leading a lioness with a strong will. One whom had fought and defeated many like him.

A brief smile graced her countenance yet quickly faded as she commanded inwardly: _leave him for later Sam. Colonel O'Neill comes first._

Fear taunted her senses at the mention of his name. She wanted to shove Haran aside, and run . . . run and run until she could no longer.

The urgency returned in its full glory as it fuelled the need to react. It was as if the Samantha Carter had disintegrated, and had merged with someone else's desperation, panic, and . . . defeat.

Like a frantic windmill, blood pumped adrenaline through her body, and her heart suddenly lurched, muscles tensing as if restrained from accelerating forward. A switch flipped inside, and her military discipline faded, as instincts mirrored an arrow, and the outlandish feelings propelled it like a bowstring.

The low-lit corridor became distant in her mind.

Thoughtless, Carter rammed the guard next to her against the concrete wall. His head ricocheted with the nasty whiplash, and then unwillingly sunk down to his rear, noticeably disorientated.

From the left, a dagger slithered through the air, but she avoided it with swift proficiency, and countered with an elbow to the woman's stomach, supporting it with relentless vigour. Hot breath exhaled upon impact and Carter flipped the winded warrior over her right shoulder, concluding the attack with a stomp to the head.

On the cold floor, beside the prone woman, the guard abruptly groaned in discomfort and sat up. In mere seconds, Sam ripped the woman's sidearm from its holster, and slammed the butt-end against his temple, joining his friend in oblivion shortly thereafter.

Out of breath, her vision suddenly cleared, and she spun toward where she knew the clan leader stood. The gun cocked, while her fierce gaze connected with that of Haran. He had positioned his body into a side stance, weapon coolly raised in her direction, while he schooled an impressed expression.

"No need for that, Samantha." He waved the handgun sardonically. "Lower the weapon. You will achieve nothing in this manner."

"Stop it!" Sam yelled. "I've had enough. Take me to the Colonel. Now!"

Haran chuckled at her forthrightness, and holstered his weapon.

"Even if you did manage to get past me, my people would have stopped you." He placed his hand on his sword's grip, and then shaped his jaw as if she was his subordinate. "They know how to deal with annoying . . ."

Carter aimed the sidearm above his head and pulled the trigger.

The bullet penetrated the stone ceiling and scattered pulverized cement over Haran's hair and shoulders, dirtying his silky cloak. He breathed deeply; eyelashes blinking away the dust particles, and gently exhaled, slowly opening his dark eyes.

One of his soldiers stealthily grabbed the woman's poised arm from behind, and shoved it towards her back, while the gun clattered to the stone floor with a deafening metal tone. A soft yelp slipped through her lips as she continued to struggle in the guard's grip, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.

Opposing them, Haran wiped the dust from his shoulders, at the same time as the guard enforced his hold on Sam's wrist. She reluctantly stopped thrashing, listening as the leader's footfalls echoed in the passage, slothfully approaching them. He halted before the Major, and accepted her scowl, relishing her skirmish with a devious smile that gradually deepened. Attentively, his brown eyes observed how she swallowed, squared her jaw, all the while her gaze gored him in livid anger.

Clearly, he disgusted her and this made him trace her cheek in reply.

The Major flinched at the touch, turning her head away; however, the guard restricted her movement. Haran's vile hand delicately slid down her jawline and then vehemently seized her chin. She tried to pull away, but the warrior forced eye contact, gazing into her furious blue eyes.

"You have to understand Samantha Carter. . ." He said strong and taciturn. ". . . I allowed you the honour of disarming my warriors."

She frowned, her mind analysing his words, for he could not have predicted her behaviour. Not even she did, as it was an irrational outburst.

"You are inadvertently joined with your commander."

Her world slow motioned, the background distorting. Haran's smug countenance blurred before her eyes, whilst the pain inflicted by the guard's fierce grip, slowly vanished. His words suddenly clamped around her mind like an eagle's talons, sinking in deep, and then panic erupted within her body paralysing muscles, tendons, and sinew. Her knees hastily buckled, and she collapsed into a pair of strong arms, which grabbed her by the arms and another by her legs.

The Major was unaware of how long they carried her, but during the movement, she felt every single hitched breath, every skipped heartbeat, and all paralysing fear, as if Jack O'Neill was being torn apart limb for limb.

Carter's world refocused and she kicked at the one assailant, whilst her arms fought for release from the other. However, the men stayed the course and escorted her into a partially lit room. Haran released his grip around her feet, letting it fall down with a thud, whilst the guard propelled her sideways against a wall. Pain shot down her back and she groaned in response, shoulder aching with pain.

In her peripheral view, Haran swept his palm at the source of the only light filtering into the room. An observation window, which encompassed half of the wall, permitted white fluorescent light to enter through from the room enjoining theirs.

Turning her body towards the window, her eyes sighted a half dozen translucent monitors mounted against the left wing, displaying different frames of a man running through a misty forest. From there, her gaze traversed the thick cables running up to the ceiling and then overhung to the only light fixture in the room, down to . . . _Colonel!_

Carter gasped through the hand that covered her lips, while she observed the object of the team's pursuit. It had ended here in a room with a white floor. Their C.O. fastened to an upright metal slab in the shape of a star, while electrodes ran along his forehead, and wires protruded from his chest and extended towards where a machine, to his left, monitored both his vitals and brain activity.

Understanding dawned like the morning light, her eyes darting to the displaying monitors.

Daniel had questioned the truth behind the translations, flagging it as deception, but here before her eyes, the Colonel was definitely lost within a virtual world.

She darted for the door next to the window, but Haran intercepted her, arm snaking around her waist, and swung her away. "Let go!" Sam demanded through pursed lips.

Laughter rattled through his battle leathers, before he hurled her towards the guard. He barked out an order, "Restrain her!" Then, jabbed his finger at her, "It's time you learn who is in charge."

* * *

"You've been quiet since the beginning of our pursuit Dr Jackson. Why is that?"

Teal'c's baritone voice echoed in the tent they were occupying. His gaze drifted from the archaeologist following his line of sight.

"Yeah, been thinking." Daniel replied as he observed some men sparring. "I thought we were dealing with an Ancient outpost, due to the translations' derivation of Latin. But then I saw how Haran's soldiers worked in the canyon, and Japan immediately came to mind. Especially the era of the samurais." He paused wincing as the one soldier hit the floor with a loud thud. "Yet, when I saw this culture . . ."

"They are neither." Teal'c supplied, watching a sword match between a man and woman.

"Exactly! Haran's name gave it away. It's Arabic, and this way of life, Bedouin, an advanced one at that, due to how they behave toward their women and children. There's more leniency, obviously, because they strive on this unique fighting discipline. On earth, they're known for their mixture of stationary and nomadic lifestyles, inhabiting desert lands in North Africa and the Middle East. In the early A.D's, they were impressive warriors highly skilled in this type of battle form. Rulers of the desert, ruthless fighters, loyal lovers, and family bound."

"They are indeed skilled in deception."

Daniel gazed down at the plush cushions and sunk down, grabbing a fruit from the bowl next to him.

"That's why I couldn't get a grip on who we were dealing with, and frankly, Jack's disappearance made it harder to concentrate." He took a juicy bite and continued to watch some warriors scaling different sized pillars.

Teal'c turned his body on the fighting, and clasped his hands before his stomach.

"Now, that you have identified their culture, what do you suggest we do? I would not ignore their knowledge about the Goa'uld, and I've seen enough to know we're amidst an army . . . not a peaceful race."

"Bedouins traditionally had strong honour codes and traditional systems of justice. If you give me time to remember their history correctly, I might a have way for us to leave here with our lives intact. Maybe find out why they're not under a System Lord's control."

The Jaffa bowed his head in understanding, and then raised his one eyebrow, "It should be done immediately. I did not like the way Haran handled Major Carter. I think it's no coincidence he selected her."

"Explain." The nectarine in Daniel's hand stopped midway, staring now with a confused expression.

"After O'Neill vanished, I saw turmoil within Major Carter."

"Nothing new, we're all concerned about Jack. He tends to bring the _best_ out of us."

Teal'c acknowledged the Doctor's sarcasm with a curt nod, but his concern remained. "I believe the dais and the cloak are connected. Therefore, the conflict she experienced . . ."

Jackson jumped up at the revelation, exclaiming, "Is Jack's."

"Indeed." A wry smile curled the Jaffa's lips.

Daniel's expression fell. "Ah, we have a problem though. We need a knife and Haran for the plan to work. Furthermore, he seems to know what we're going to do before we even do it."

"Then we continue to be ourselves."

The Jaffa slowly tilted his body towards the tent entrance, and positioned his hands behind his back. Gazing out on the different arenas, a mischievous glint formed in his eyes, a devious smile not far behind.

* * *

Awareness surged into her mind like water into a dam, and pulled her from the oblivion she was currently occupying. She moaned as pain followed suit and travelled from the nape of her neck over her skull ending in her forehead. It furrowed in confusion, which only spurred the discomfort.

Sam moved her hand, but something kept it in place. She tried the other one, yet the same thing happened. Upon further examination, she determined that they had restrained her just like the Colonel.

Pain clamped down on her head, forcing a throaty shout through her lips. Tears glistened in response. Her eyelids sluggishly opened as she fought against the sharp gleam cast by the overhead light. Gradually, Jack filtered into view and she noticed his still sullen features, closed eyes, clearly lost in another world. Fear attacked her emotions again, feeding the agonizing headache.

A loud terrifying shout filled the room, while Sam fought against the different sensations flooding its way through her soul. She wanted it to stop. Sobbed for the torture to end, yet the more she assessed the Colonel's well-being the more she underwent.

"You should stop thinking about O'Neill . . ." Her head moved to the right in search of the voice. ". . . or your agony will only escalate."

Haran emerged from the shadows and stood before her, blocking her view. The torture suddenly subsided, yet not the antagonizing feelings.

"The more you think, the more pain you will feel, the more you will suffer."

Carter panted, working through the feelings, using military discipline to push them aside.

Haran's playful smile wrinkled the scar on his right cheek.

"I have taken your military training into consideration, Samantha. You are indeed a resilient warrior, but even the strong fall."

He stepped aside permitting the Major to gaze upon the Colonel.

"Gnhaaa! AAAH!" Sam's head writhed as she screamed long guttural screams.

"Your O'Neill is not far behind. He's showing signs of submission."

"NOOO! No! I don't . . . HAAA . . . believe you . . . AAH!"

She closed her eyes, sparing herself the discomfort, as she tried to contain her emotions.

"Honestly," He confessed, countenance schooling a disgusted snarl. "None of my warriors has reached this level of success. None have had the same recognisable endurance . . ." Carter cackled a shaky laugh, interrupting his admission. Shock flitted for a moment, but he quickly covered it with a wicked sneer. "With you here, he will no longer be a problem."

She ignored him, instead called out between agonising gasps, "Colonel! You have to fight it! Resist! It's not real. You have to fight . . ."

The warrior grabbed her chin, muffling her words. Carter responded with a dark glare.

"Look!" The command exploded in her face, while he shoved her head in the monitors' direction. "Does it appear as if he can hear you?"

On the close up frame, her eyes fleetingly glanced the Colonel's confusion, something that instigated more anguish. She struggled against Haran's grip, desiring to break eye contact with the footage, but he held her firmly in place.

"He's the cause of your pain."

His grip subsided, and he stepped away while he gazed beyond her, and curtly nodded.

Sam wanted to spit in his face, though the thought briefly came and went in her mind, for the torture session superseded her will to do so. She was tired, in need of a respite and in no mood to quarrel.

Electrodes suddenly came into her peripheral view and her eyes revealed the recognition of his words.

"Yes, Samantha. It's by sheer luck that you were the one to touch the dais, and would likewise be the one O'Neill has a weakness for. I would not have chosen you if it were not the case." His voice echoed dimly in her ears, while someone placed a soft patch on her heart.

"Beyond those monitors there is a room identical to this one, with the same technology. From there, we send people into the virtual reality created by the test subject. We also have the means of manipulating the scenarios to best suit the initiator's weaknesses. O'Neill cannot help but confront his worst nightmares, and now, you will be one of them."

He paused for a moment, allowing the news to sink in, and smiled deceitfully when Sam responded in kind – eyes wide open, fear laced pupils and stunned expression plainly displayed.

"You will be one another's worst enemy, Samantha."


	12. Chapter 12 - Friend or Foe

[Updated 01/09/2017]

 **Chapter Twelve** **: Friend or Foe**

Rain poured down in a heavy blanket when Jack came to an abrupt stop, gazing around the foggy woodland. The confusing streaks had stopped their taunting fifteen minutes ago, and the eerie voice had dwindled to five-minute intervals, whilst the sound of marching, to his comfort, had completely vanished.

Leaning his hand against a nearby tree, the showering water washed the sweat from his head, neckline, and façade, cooling his tired body. His muscles ached, lungs burned, and his throat was sore and dry, while his heart pounded like a sledgehammer, ears rang like a dozen annoying bells and his head felt as if it was about to explode.

O'Neill leaned his shoulders against the rugged trunk and allowed his head to fall gently against it, releasing a heavy sigh. Raindrops collided with his face in splodges, whilst his eyelids closed upon impact, as he relished the refreshment, and revelled in the offered respite.

His knees felt like buckling, a sign that adrenaline was slowly fading from his system.

 _Have to keep moving. Don't know how long I'll have this breather for._

O'Neill tilted to the right, compelling his body to move, he needed to find shelter, as it would conceal him from his pursuers.

His chocolate brown eyes opened sluggishly, and then quickly blinked a few times.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, whilst cocking his sidearm. It appeared as if one of those streaks had finally revealed themselves. Careless, Jack aimed at the figure fifty metres away, half-hidden behind a tree, and fired a round. The firing pin crackled as it released the slug from its chamber and pierced through the air, followed by another quick on its heels. He saw them hit their mark, heard the assailant cry out in pain and then the figure ran, weaving through the trees until the mist swallowed it whole.

* * *

[ **Earlier** ]

Sam Carter regained consciousness on the muddy forest floor, whilst rain pelted her body in ice-like pinpricks. She opened her eyes to find a white descended cloud and trees towering around her. Her clothes resembled Haran's, only its colour was camouflaged green, and a shroud draped over her facial features.

The Major suddenly jerked upright, as she finally understood her predicament – trapped within the Colonel's make belief world, a reality where he had endured the unthinkable. Now, she found herself in the very location she had last sighted him, where he had run like a scared hunted rabbit.

A breath hitched in her throat.

 _What the hell should I do now? I have no idea what's transpired or what Haran has done to the Colonel._

Lifting herself off the ground, Carter inspected the area – it was the same old setting the team mostly surveyed during missions; however, she could not help but feel like Princess Leia on the planet Endor, considering that she was dressed as such.

 _Well, almost. Assassin she was most definitely not._

 _Okay, where should I . . ._

A familiar sound drifted in the mist from the east. It was the Colonel's panting.

 _He probably stopped to catch his breath. Well, here goes nothing._

Sam expelled a sigh, inhaled and then tilted in Jack's direction, bravely trudging forward until he barely filtered into view. He was leaning against a tree still dressed in his desert attire. Eyes closed as he allowed the rain to drench him from head to toe. He appeared exhausted, his body shivering from the run. His countenance flustered. She saw how his knees buckled and her heart plunged on his behalf. Physically, he was fighting to stay upright, whereas mentally, he was most probably waging war.

Sam peered around the trunk for a better view, when O'Neill turned to face her. Sudden alarm prompted in his tired brown eyes, and his weapon swiftly cocked in her direction, it was steady in hand, so unlike his countenance.

She stood rooted to spot, frozen in time as she saw both his fear and the sidearm jolt in his hand. Tremendous pain followed suit, as one bullet collided with her battle leathers, protecting her shoulder from a thorough wound. Yet another grazed her arm and it felt as if she had received a sucker punch and a stab wound simultaneously.

Anguish tore through her lips as she wailed in reply, her feet rapidly retreating from whence she came.

She ducked, weaved, and swore under her breath, while negotiating the unknown terrain.

How could she have been so naïve to think he would identify her as his Major? She was not clothed for the occasion, especially the hood over her head. She should have thought through possible tactics, taken in account his emotional state, physical state – his overall condition before approaching. Nevertheless, she had listened to her heart and natural ability to aid whomever of her team was in need. Jack fit that description to a tee.

In this moment and time, he only saw her as his enemy not his second-in-command. The statement tore at her emotions.

 _Dammit! I thought it was too good to be true. I still sense what he senses. This might be a problem._

After a few minutes of running blindly, Sam slowed to a jogging pace. She glanced over her shoulder, and then ceased to check up on the damage the Colonel had inflicted.

She lifted the tail end of her hooded cloak, found that the slug had dislodged during the hasty retreat, leaving behind a nasty indentation in her armour. Her arm was not so lucky, for the slug had parted five centimetres of flesh below the leathers protecting her left bicep. Blood seeped profusely, flowing down her forearm, hand, and fell down to the ground.

A piece of her cloak would suit the wound just perfectly, thus she tore through it using the dagger strapped next to the holstered sword.

"Jaaaackkk! Ruuuuunnnn! Run . . . run . . . runnnn booooy!"

The unexpected voice slithered through the forest from Jack's last known location, moved through her body like a thin blade, and elicited a bout of goose flesh.

Her progress on the wound halted, as she turned in its direction.

"What the…." She suddenly declared in terror.

"Jack! Run! Run . . . run . . . run boy!" The voice repeated again, its tone chilling her to the bone. "She's waiting! Run! Boy!"

"LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" Carter heard Jack growl not too far from her position.

 _Holy Hannah! He followed me!_

His treading boots were the next thing she heard, and her eyes expanded in shock, for with it came a sudden joust of anxiety, which sent shooting pain over her skull. She screamed in reply, the snakelike voice muffling the rest. Unintentionally, alerting the Colonel to her position.

* * *

"AAHHH….."

"Jack! Run! Run . . . run . . . run boy! She's here! Run! Boy!"

The shrieking and slithering voices resounded through the forest simultaneously, making him stop dead in his tracks. The voice was spot-on; the warrior he had wounded was a woman.

 _Aw, crap! Why not a man like Royal? Now I have to chase down a woman for crying out . . ._

Rustling echoed from his right drawing his attention.

 _I have no strength for this bull! Why did it have to be a murky pursuit where the freakin' bad guy has camouflaged gear and I stick out like a gigantic sore thumb._

Three thunderclaps sounded off in procession, and O'Neill shoulder rolled to the left, stopping short before a mud puddle. The bullets penetrated a tree two metres to his right.

 _Dang, she's laying down covering fire, while I'm a sitting duck._ Rain splashed down in the puddle, drawing his attention. _Guess I have to wallow like a pig to blend in with the surroundings._

 _Aw well, won't be singing in the rain just yet._

The soldier holstered his weapon, inhaled, bracing himself for what was to follow and without hesitation, he rolled his back into the muddy water, soaking it in dark thick slush. Ending on all fours, a disgusted look graced his features. He dug his left hand into the ground, retracted a handful of slobbering soil and rubbed it over his arms, neckline, and face, careful not to get it in his eyes and mouth. His boots and slacks received the same messy camouflage.

 _Excellent! Now it's time for good ol' fashioned hunting._

At the thought, two more slugs sliced through the air, embedding themselves in the same tree. This time it sounded further away than the previous ones. Perfect, it meant he had direction and distance he could use as navigation. He was to the east, the warrior to the southeast. He would head west encircling to meet the assailant from the south.

The Colonel waited for a few seconds, positioning his body like a sprinter's, then set off, the ethereal voice spurring him. "Run boy, run! She's waiting for you!"

 _Finally, something we agree with!_

* * *

Ten minutes passed by as the veteran soldier navigated the terrain, anticipation bubbling within. He felt invigorated, driven to catch this warrior and once he had her, he would finally have his answers. Yes, this hunting mission was a strategic one, not because he feared she would kill him. No, this was personal. He wanted to leave this place so desperately, and this woodland had finally given him the opportunity to do so.

The voice echoed again spurring him on, when a shadow drifted from his side. A body collided with his back, sending them sprawling to the ground. In no time, he was up on his feet only to receive a kick to his right inner thigh, a cracking blow to his jaw and then felt aggressive fingers intertwine behind his head as the warrior forced him towards the ground. However, he countered the oncoming knee with both his hands, yet failed to stop the stomp to his left shoulder.

His back hit the tree behind him, and sudden paralysing pain thundered through his body. He groaned in reply, his assailant's aching yelp sounding shortly thereafter. When he opened his eyes, the warrior was gone, but not the sound of her retreating footfalls.

Jack pushed off and followed closely behind, holding his aching shoulder in the pursuit.

 _How the heck did she know where I was?_

 _Crap! The shots were a lure. She wanted me to head this way, meet her from the south. Sucha idiot!_

Before him, the figure weaved through the trees, sailing over dead trunks as if it were hurdles.

 _Damn, she's fast, surefooted too. Maybe that's her advantage, but why did she cry out in agony then?_

O'Neill ignored the question and pushed his body to the limit, zigzagging the terrain like a skilled hunter. This was his world not hers, and as such he treated it as he pushed himself off a fallen tree trunk. His posture impersonated a parachute jumper's as he soared through the air, and then clamped his arms around her shoulders, taking her down like a hungry lion its prey. Together they tumbled on the ground and Jack released his hold, rolled in the opposite direction, and jumped to his feet, gun in hand.

The warrior crawled away on hands and feet, desperate to get away. If he read this correctly, she was scared of him, for she appeared as if a wounded animal scurrying for safety, and it made him snicker, laughter rattled in his chest.

"Jaackkk! Boy! Kill herrr! Kiillll!" The voice sounded different this time round, daring him to take the step.

"You really caught me on a bad day." Jack called out after the retreating figure. "You heard the voice, don't give me a reason." She kept on going, yet Jack followed behind, stating in annoyance, "I'm not in the mood. Please just . . . **stop**!"

The woman complied, using the tree as a means to pull herself upright, and turned to face him. He was soaked in mud, but the unrelenting rain had washed most of it away. Plain exhaustion rippled in his posture, yet what she saw within his eyes, sent a chill down her spine. He was not fooling around; Jack would shoot to get the answers he needed, and nothing really prevented him from listening to the voice.

Across from her, O'Neill took in the warrior's appearance. Blood soaked a torn piece of material around her elbow. She was dressed like a stealthily soldier; a shroud covered her face, except for her blue eyes.

Agony tore through him and the woman dropped to her knees clenching her head in pain.

"Hey!" Jack growled, weapon demanding her to adhere. "Get up! I didn't say you could take a break."

"Kill her! Jack! Kill . . . kill . . . kill!" The voice coaxed in a wolf-like manner.

"You don't understand." Jack's voice cracked. He quickly swallowed his pleading tone and spoke sternly, "I will shoot if you don't listen. Stand up!"

The warrior did so, poorly.

He flinched at her struggle, and feeling guilty, he gently commanded. "Could you please remove the veil?"

Carter swallowed hard, breathing through the Colonel's change in feelings that reverberated within her emotions. Reluctantly she obeyed, unclipped the shroud, and removed the hood. Confusion briefly graced his features, but then searing anger replaced it. Something she clearly felt burning in her chest.

Eyes bloodshot from the pelting rain, Jack peered at her. "Protector?" He hissed, and then lividly growled. "You sneaky little . . . I should kill you on the spot."

The weapon raised towards Sam's head.

She extended her hands in self-defence, suddenly scared of the beast that had made itself known. "No, Colonel! It's Major Carter. It's me!"

"Enough!" Spittle flew with the command, whilst he moved forward two steps. "You put me through hell, tried to seduce me, and chased me through this hellhole. Now you're using Carter against me? YOU…" Jack pulled the trigger, releasing the slug to wreak havoc on her already bruised shoulder.

"Kill . . . kill . . . kill! Jack!"

"Yeah! I agree with you." He shouted at the voice.

The pain was unbearable as the bullet had shredded its way through her shoulder and embedded itself in the tree. Blood instantly soaked her battle leathers, whilst she groaned in pain. O'Neill had shot her, mistaking her for someone who had clearly impersonated her. No wonder Haran had said they would be each other's enemies, because unknowingly he had already set her up against the Colonel.

"Move. Move!" He mocked. "You've shown me both sides of the coin. Now be a good girl and get up!"

"Colonel, listen…" Carter protested.

"No, _you_ shut up!" He yelled.

Sam winced at his furious outburst, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She felt like a wounded bird, waiting for its hunter to pull the final trigger. She swayed sideways as discomfort revealed on her expression.

There was no point in hiding her agony; the Colonel would only distinguish it as a ploy. Whoever this Protector was, she had played her part, and now it was Carter's time to face the music.

"I know this place is fake, and know that once I kill you, I'll just end up in another scenario. But not before you tell me how to get out of this godforsaken place."

"Please, Colonel. I don't know how to get us out of here." Sam urgently pleaded, clenching her wounded shoulder.

"You can't or you won't." Jack spat.

"I'm stuck just like you are, Sir."

"Bull!"

He aimed at her right thigh.

The gunshot went off, Carter falling to the forest floor with a thud, while she screamed for him to stop. She could feel his seething anger and it frightened her. If she did not get through to him, he would kill her before she got the chance to tell him what was really going on.

 _Holy Hannah! Never in our military career did we ever have to fight one another in such a way. Not once did I have to beg for redemption . . . from him. The Colonel wants to kill me, coldheartedly, like I'm a Goa'uld he should eradicate._

Carter managed to anchor most of her weight on her knees; nevertheless, Jack came for her, grabbed her hair, and pulled it back, so that he could place the handgun's cold barrel underneath her chin. Surprise registered in her eyes and her expression, whereas Jack's dark pebbles glared at her. He was beyond his wits, for it danced in his eyes.

 _Would I die, if he shot me here? This is not my real body, nor does this world exist. Yet everything that I've felt thus far has tormented me in the worst possible way._

"Kill! Kill! Kill Jack!" It was stronger now, excited that O'Neill had finally decided to obey.

"Jack." Tears welled in her blue eyes. "Please!" They trickled down her ashen cheeks, whilst she gazed pleadingly into his eyes. " _Please_. Jack."

The latter imploring was barely audible, yet it stung for O'Neill jolted back shocked.

Carter keeled onto her side, and a moan escaped her lips as she withdrew into a fetal position covering her head and ears.

" _Colonel, please." I've heard the same appeal a year ago, when I was dying from the ancient plague. Carter had asked me to hang on, just like she's appealing for her life._

The Colonel clenched the sides of his head in confusion, growling under his breath. He failed to understand what was transpiring. He had been alone in his torment, and now the Major had shown up unexpectedly, bearing the same appearance as Protector. The anger he had felt, the driven fear propelling him to survive had blinded the truth, causing him to turn into an animal, a monster.

 _I shot my Second. I shot her four times . . . wanted . . . to kill . . . her._

"This . . . it's not true. I don't believe you."

He shook his head, pacing before the Major, while she tried to breathe through the coinciding pain of injuries and the Colonel's distress.

She gazed up at him, "I don't know what they've done to you but I AM real, Colonel. I'm me! I'm Sam. I'm Sam." She implored.

Jack had halted abruptly as her voice faded near the end. Her body cascaded with shivers and then she lost consciousness. Staring down at her prone body, he suddenly realized she might be gone.

He darted for her, falling down on his knees, and quickly, yet gently rolled her unto her back, whilst feeling for a pulse. Shaky cold fingers moved along the jugular vein until he found the desired throb.

Jack sighed in relief.

Sitting now on his haunches, the Colonel examined her bleeding thigh, shoulder, elbow, and possible bruises from their tumble. His slender fingers unclipped the cloak from her shoulders, and gently pulled it towards him. He grabbed her dagger and tore off some strips.

 _Oh, Sam. Why did you attack me? Stupid question, O'Neill, you attacked first, and she used direct force as the only feasible way of getting through to you._

Jack got to work on bandaging her thigh, working with soft careful hands, afraid he would cause more pain than what she had already endured, then, moved on to her shoulder.

 _If I'd known it was you, I would have reacted differently._

 _Where you trapped in your own hell? Did you suffer? Is that why you were so cautious? I was a freakin' monster; I would have done the same thing in your place. I just hope you can forgive me. I know I won't be able to forgive myself for a while. Even if this world is a dud, the pain is very real. This place has awoken the worst in me, turned everything inside out, and you got pulled into it by a mere fluke. I'm so sorry._

With no prying eyes present, Jack did what his heart desired; he leaned forward, and carefully placed his hands on her cheeks, wiped away her tears with his thumbs, and tenderly placed his forehead against hers. Sobs echoed in the drizzling forest as Jack O'Neill surrendered to the grief he had unknowingly caused. He cried for her, for him, for Charlie, for those he had failed in the past. For once, he gave in and allowed his emotions to take control.

"I'm so sorry, Carter. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry."

* * *

"No!" Haran furiously exclaimed. "This is not what I had wanted. The dais even supplied intolerable torture, so that she could not succeed."

"It seems she has found a way to numb to the pain, Sir. I have no idea how, but her body has regulated enough for her to be near him."

"Be quiet, you fool." He ordered impatiently; gestured at the monitor before him. "I can see _that_. He's embracing her, when he should be killing her like we planned."

"Maybe it's due to the bond they share." The technician stated matter-of-factly.

"We have underestimated our opponent, Michal, which is all that has transpired. They are stronger than what we had first observed. Obviously the technology has failed too."

"With all due respect Commander Haran." The technician began confidently, preparing the displeased man for his following declaration. "Clearly, the team has a resilient strength. We may live for combat, but they have seen it, tasted it, and endured many battles. No wonder the Goa'uld have retaliated. We are fools to think they will go down with ease."

"Michal." Haran let out an exasperated sigh, holding the bridge of his nose. "You are trying my patience."

The advice had not worked, so the technician bowed his head, saying, "Yes, Commander, I apologize. Should we leave them together or would you like the woman to be disconnected?"

"Certainly not, I need them to suffer for a time longer before we withdraw them."

Haran turned away and gazed upon the SGC members. Blood had flowed from the Major's nose as her body had processed the pain inflicted by O'Neill in the virtual reality. Now here in the present world, both were quiet, breathing evenly. He glanced over his shoulder, observing the display provided by the monitors. They had both fallen asleep.

A sickened snarl twisted his expression.

"Prepare the next environment and be sure to minimize her injuries, but leave O'Neill as is. I want him so physically and mentally exhausted, he will plead to die."

"Yes, Sir." Michal said.

A messenger entered the room, waiting patiently for his leader to acknowledge him.

"Yes, speak!" Haran yelled.

Thus far, things were falling apart, not as he had desired. Someone had to feel the brunt of his frustration, and unfortunately the young man suited that criteria.

"Sir, the visitors have joined the fighting exercises." He declared.

"What?" Haran replied appalled. "I gave no such liberty. Why did Sharif not do as I have instructed?"

"Ah." The messenger swallowed nervously before continuing, "The Jaffa persuaded him to demonstrate our craft. Presented a challenge he could not refuse, Commander."

"I see my men are eager to prove themselves. Why don't I send them into O'Neill's world? They will most certainly receive a challenge." The Commander chuckled. "Fine, let them enjoy themselves. It gives me more time to sort out this mess."

"Sir." The messenger hesitated, apologetic for his interruption. Haran scowled, waiting impatiently for him to continue. "They have requested to see you."

"They did." He mulled over the young man's words. "And why would I grace them with my presence? My interest lies with these two, the other two are nothing but a hindrance to me."

"The one called Daniel wants to learn more about our culture."

"He's received his fair share of cultural experience within the central building."

Haran paused, gazing at the technician's progress, and then tilted his head to the messenger. "Fine." A chaffed smile curled his lips. "I will make time for them. "Go!" He commanded while waving dismissively. "I will come once Michal completes his task."

The messenger curtly nodded his confirmation and quickly, yet swiftly left the room.


	13. Chapter 13 - Keep on Marshing on

[Updated 01/09/2017]

 **Chapter Thirteen** **: Keep on Marshing on**

A sea of darkness had swallowed her whole an hour previously, yet now it was gently fading away, as awareness gradually awoke her extremities. The first thing she felt was a lingering weight on her stomach. Her hands were on top of each other, in addition to the Colonel's hugging arm. Hot breath faintly tickled her neck, and then she knew. He was embracing her like she had within the snow covered cave in Antarctica, during SG1's first year as a team.

It is not that it felt good to be in his arms, however, they were Air Force, the Colonel her C.O. it was forbidden by the military, regardless of what he had confronted without the support of his team, regardless that he had hurt her.

Carter cringed as images of the inflicted injuries and inner torture flooded her mind.

She had felt how O'Neill had wrapped her bruised body, heard his apology, and sorrow filled crying. Her heart had ached at his open display. It was also the last thing she remembered before succumbing to sleep.

Upon further examination, Carter felt the lingering soreness of the slugs, yet they were distant not as painful as they should be. The bleeding had stopped too. It was clear to her, that Haran had corrected the damage done. However, still allowed her the displeasure of remembering O'Neill's deeds, that, and his emotions.

Sam tilted her head so, gently leaning her right cheek against his forehead. His salt and pepper hair tickled her nose; nevertheless, she allowed herself one moment of weakness, one moment of guiltless comfort, before waking him. They had to assess their predicament, find a way out of Haran's sick game.

"Ah, Colonel, not that this is nice . . ." The Major said swallowing nervously, she never like waking him, hence the familiar statement.

His head stirred, whilst his snuggling arm drew her closer to him, recalling the Antarctic fiasco. "Funny." He barely managed.

After a few moments of silence, Carter allowing him the liberty of properly waking, spoke softly, "We should prob . . ."

"'mmm sorry . . . passed out . . . wrappin' injuries, reason for . . ." He trailed off, his breathing laboured. "So tired . . . damn tired . . . hurts. Hurts. . ."

Sam held back tears as she responded in a considerate tone, "I know, Sir. I can literally feel everything that you're going through."

A long silence followed her confession, and she bit her bottom lip in discomfort. O'Neill always had the knack for making her nervous, especially in these kinds of situations. The fact was – he would stay an unattainable goal for as long as they fought the Goa'uld. This just made it harder for her to let go of him. Irrespective of what she felt for Pete.

Jack inhaled a deep breath, and then compelled his mouth to speak, "Care . . . to 'laborate."

Sam shuddered as he expelled the leftover breath against her neck.

Cursing her reaction silently, she replied composed, "I believe when I examined the dais, it scanned me. Then, as I pressed the button, it took a sample of my DNA. Somehow, it connected the two of us. I don't really know how, but my senses immediately heightened."

She felt him scowl, yet he retorted sarcastically, "What did I say about touching alien doohickeys Carter?"

"I know Sir. Daniel surmised it to be a flytrap, due to how we both reacted. I should have stayed away, then you wouldn't have disappeared. I'm so sorry."

"Don't beat yourself up, Major. I remember a similar thing before I got snatched away."

"Yes, Teal'c said so."

"How long . . . gone for?" The tiredness became heavy, pulling him back to sleep.

"Almost four hours, Colonel."

An awkward calm occurred between them for a minute or so before Jack spoke again, very slowly. "Felt like days, encountered a whole heap just for it to be four hours."

To Sam's dismay, he retracted his huddling arm, and placed his hand on her shoulder underneath his head, squeezed it in comfort.

"I'm sorry Carter. It was a . . . complicated mess, and then you appeared out of nowhere. My mind just snapped . . . dammit, there's no excuse for what I did. I-I-I wanted, no. I would have enjoyed killing you."

"I . . ." Carter swallowed back the bile in her throat, glancing the Colonel's saddened expression. "Please, Sir, it's not your fault. I experienced everything, know how close you." She suddenly stopped.

The Colonel was already remorseful about his behaviour; there was no need to hit the last nail in the coffin.

"Colonel."

Her voice was strong and stern as she gently shifted away, turning onto her side. She then positioned her free hand underneath his head, offering it as a pillow. His eyes closed with the gesture not wanting to glimpse her pity.

"Look at me, Sir." Jack's eyelids slowly opened, revealing his tired brown eyes. Compassion flooded her system, in addition to his remorse. "You have an advantage now. _We_ will get through this together."

"True." He simply replied, a small smile curling his lips.

She forced eye contact, gazing with determined blue eyes, "And I know who's been inflicting your . . . our pain."

Before Jack could think of a comeback, the door materialized before them, whilst the slithering voice returned in full vigour. It shouted for them to go.

Astonishment wrapped them, shell shocked that they had to leave the woodland not fully recuperated. Carter reacted quickly, gently pulling the Colonel to his feet and snaked her arm around his waist to keep him upright. Jack instantly placed his arm around her shoulders, appreciative of her support, yet baffled that she had one up on him physically.

 _Wasn't she seriously injured?_

"It was your healing touch, Sir." Sam joked as she sensed his confusion. Then a neutral expression appeared as he scowled. "Ah, the designer had mercy on me, you not so much."

She winced at the end, helping him over a dead tree trunk. They were a few steps away from entering into the next environment.

Jack's expression furrowed in disgust, "It's scary that you can discern what I'll say, due to the nature of our team dynamics. It's even more disconcerting to know you can sense it now."

Sam's free hand gripped the side of her head as his dislike triggered in her chest. "Believe me, you're not the only one that's spooked by this."

A muffled moan followed, stopping O'Neill from opening the door.

"What's wrong?" He asked worried.

This intensified the headache, Carter grabbing her head now with both hands. Jack let go and leaned against the doorframe for support.

"Aaah . . ." She breathed through the pain, yet her expression remained twisted in anguish. "Maybe you should rein in your emotions more. It kinda hurts when you don't."

"That bad, huh?" Confusion lingered for a short while before Jack suppressed it, for Sam was half down to her knees, groaning.

"You have no idea." She replied through clenched teeth. Yet, managed to calm the tidal wave of senses as she continued, "We should…" Gestured vaguely at the door.

O'Neill responded in a sluggish manner, as his body felt like jelly. His muscles tethered like fraught rubber bands and his mind was restless as the sea. Normally on missions, he displayed the opposite before the team. Now, here was Major Carter, suffering what he felt, sensed, and thought – unknowingly hurting her.

 _It's . . . just . . . so twisted to be this exposed. I'm used to dealing with things personally. There's no freedom now, no mask to hide behind, no being Jack O'Neill. This is bloody well messed up. Every time I respond, Carter will feel it twice as hard. I swear I'll . . ._

"Sir!" She chided in frustration. "Stop thinking and open the door."

Resisting the urge to feel sorry for her, Jack pulled down on the handle and the door opened on rustic hinges. Studying her demeanour, he extended his open palm towards her, indicating for her accept his courtesy. Sam gazed at him with a furrowed brow and reluctantly placed her hand in his. "Welcome to my world." O'Neill sarcastically stated, whilst mustering the strength to step over the threshold with Carter trailing behind.

On the other side, their boots sank down deep into a grassy pool, its saturated soil searching for a way past their tied up bootlaces.

Behind them, the doorframe faded away, causing Carter to stumble to the left. O'Neill swiftly compensated, preventing her from toppling over.

She nodded her thanks, gazing where the door should have been. "Does that usually happen?"

"Yeah." Came his curt reply.

"So you shift from environment to environment through the door?"

"Pretty much."

"Interesting. Works similar to a Stargate then." Wonder shone in her eyes like she had discovered something new.

"Uh-huh." His chin bobbed with the retort, eyes purposefully not gazing at her.

"How many have you travelled through?" She asked curious.

 _There you go! Been waiting for that one._

The Colonel gazed down at his soggy boots, facial expression twisting in discomfort, which suddenly changed to concern when Carter's voice urgently begged.

"Forget I asked. Forget I asked . . ."

Clearly, she was feeling the agony of what he had swiftly recalled to memory.

"Seventh . . ." Jack answered slowly as the Major held the side of her head, jaw clenched.

He swallowed back the knot in his throat, adam's apple moving with the gesture. Then, he inspected their current environment, desperately trying to avoid what he was doing to her.

"I'm detecting a trend here." He stated.

Thankful for the change in subject, Carter looked at him with an inquisitive brow, "Sir?"

"Well . . ." Jack sealed his lips tightly shut, and repressed the recollection of the ocean, beach and rainy forest – all of which had water in common, and simply replied, "I'd rather not say."

" _Okay_."

Elongating the word, she glimpsed the purpose of his wording on his expression. He was resisting the urge to share with her what had happened. Something she understood completely. If he did explain, she would be screaming in pain.

Sam's gaze followed his, observing their new setting.

It looked like miniscule vines had emerged from the water and had snuck their way across the spongy landscape in search of an escape. Reddish brown shrubbery rooted in sphagnum moss and peat stretched for miles on end, while shimmering rain-fed pools decorated the terrain in sporadic places. In the distance, a snow covered mountain range crawled along the horizon, while the sun stood immobile in the blue sky, thin, white sheets of clouds surrounding it.

They were standing amidst a bog, feeling the effects of its cool temperate climate on their skin.

"Sir, I would really like to get back onto drier land." Carter declared through a nervous snicker, rubbing her forearm in the process.

A slight wind had picked up, rustling the dead vegetation.

O'Neill side glanced at her, noting the spell of gooseflesh rippling up her arms and then trudged to the right with a few restricted steps. He navigated unpleasantly up the slippery, mossy slant, while the Major did so to the left. Once the pair found proper footing, they walked to the south, careful not to end up in another pool or barely visible muddy puddle.

The trek was silent, each keeping their thoughts to themselves, until thirty minutes passed and Jack could fight the involuntary confession no longer.

"Ah, Carter."

 _Uh-oh, confession time,_ Sam thought.

"Yes, Colonel." She could see the disgrace on his facial features.

Jack kept his eyes on the horizon as he spoke, "Yeah, there's something you need to know. I kinda . . . my . . ." He struggled to order his words, careful not to cause her discomfort. "You said something earlier about heightened senses. Well, mine have kinda climbed to the top of the sensitivity ladder. Things I normally keep to myself, I can't . . . here. Everything's the wrong way around, everything is . . ." His hands impersonated an explosion, grimacing as he did so. ". . . Amplified. It may be quiet now, but it will soon go into overdrive as in chaotic, and I won't be able to control . . . anything. It's gonna get a lot worse for you. Maybe even to the point of death." His brow twisted in guilt, tilting his head to the side to avoid her scrutiny.

"I'll be fine, Sir." She boldly confessed.

"No. No, you won't be, Major. Far from it."

 _Whoa, okay, so he's never said that before. Normally, it's the reverse._

"I see." Sam bit her bottom lip, but decided to continue headstrong. "This isn't real, Colonel. Even if we die, we'll wake up in a room where we're both tied to metal slabs. I've just come from there, I should know."

"No!" Jack growled, startling her. He cleared his throat. "I can't die. If I do, it will be permanent."

 _Boy he's stubborn_. She sighed in frustration.

"We're stuck in a virtual reality. Our bodies aren't physically here. So whatever you heard or believe, we will wake up if we die here."

"You think I don't know this isn't real? I'm not _that_ thick, Major."

Carter stifled a snort, "Please, Colonel, I give you more credit than you know."

"Excuse me?" His voice was stern and collected as he rebuked her.

"I'm just saying Sir that I didn't rock up from my own reality. The team has been searching for you all the while you've been stuck in here."

"No kidding!" The retort was sarcastic while Jack glared with a deadpan expression. "I tried leaving, you know. Apparently, I wasn't _smart_ enough. Don't got your brilliant mind."

"I didn't say that." Sam spat, brow furrowed in irritation.

Jack stagnated abruptly, allowing the Major to pass by.

She tilted her body sideways, and in annoyance placed her hands on her hips. But then, her frustrated expression suddenly morphed into surprise, as O'Neill, in one swift fluent motion, rushed forward and halted an arm's length away. His right hand mimicked a sidearm, and he placed the tips of his fingers against her forehead.

Sam jolted rigidly in surprise as her spine absorbed the coarse conduct.

"Tell me, _Major_ , were you there when a cold metal barrel drifted to the side of my head? Forced to pull the trigger and end my life." His hand lowered, but his cold dark glare remained. "You weren't there when I navigated a deserted corridor which had no end in sight. Weren't there as rapid mini-gun fire tore a building to shreds. Stuck inside someone else's body, lost as to why I was cowering for my life. I plummeted down a cliff into an ocean that squeezed the oxygen from my lungs. Felt how my heart beat its last beat. Yes, I was dead and I didn't wake up on a metal slab, instead I was forced to relive the last seven years . . . vividly. In the forest, I ran without stopping for an hour, that voice and many others mocking me, chasing me. Everything I confronted I had done so knowing it wasn't real. Hell it hurt . . . like death itself. Every single fear, each concern – the whole shebang over exaggerated and over the top brutal. For all I know, you're just a figment of my imagination and what I'm experiencing is just another cruel nightmare."

Tears streamed down her face as she felt his anger, his fear, and heartache.

The Colonel's expression snarled in stone cold anger, whilst his venomous words echoed in her mind.

Nonetheless, she boldly stated. "I know what you're trying to do, Colonel O'Neill. It's not going to work." Carter sniffed, as she wiped the tears with her fingertips.

His eyelids narrowed in anger, "And what is that, Major?" His question echoed dangerously low and it cut like a sharp sword.

"You're trying to push me away. You want us to split up and face whatever comes next alone, because you don't want me to see or feel your weaknesses. The thing is, Sir, no matter how much distance you place between us, the pain will only intensify."

"Is that so?" His one eyebrow raised with the brusque reply.

Carter flinched, biting her lower lip, but she soldiered on, "Yes, I don't blame you for wanting to do so. However, this connection we seem to share, it now works like an inverted magnetic pull. The further away I am, the worse it becomes. It's only tolerable once we're in close proximity."

Sam let out a shaky breath, composing herself with her familiar military mask. "Haran wants you to suffer, give in to this ruse, Colonel. That's been his objective from the beginning, and ostensibly, he's using me to do so."

Jack's harsh expression softened, regarded the Major with his own military mask and queried, "He a Goa'uld?" He then Gazed at the mountain range in the distance.

"No, but he has it in for you. I think he's found an opponent stronger than himself."

"You don't say." He replied thoughtfully. "I haven't even met the guy, but he's signed my death certificate already. Well, this is new."

A small smile curled Carter's lips.

He sighed in defeat. "Yeah, this mission's quickly rising on my hatred list. What about Daniel and Teal'c, where are they?"

"They're fine and most probably planning a way to get us out of this mess."

"Good." He curtly nodded his agreement, and then levelled his gaze with Carter's. "We should keep moving. Get out of the open."

"Where to? There is nothing but _open_." Her eyes squinted as she scanned the marshland.

"Ah, but there is." Smirking, he pointed southwest. "A treeline my dear Major."

"Which will undoubtedly be a swamp."

It was barely audible, but he heard enough to counter, "It's cover nonetheless."

He moved past her in the direction previously gestured, not waiting for her to follow. Jack had tried his best to reject her help, but she was adamant to stay glued to his side. It was admirable, but Carter failed to fathom what her presence was doing to him. He was unclear about what she precisely sensed, yet knew whatever it entailed, she was hiding it very well – something they had mastered over the years.

* * *

An hour later, the distant treeline became obvious as the pair skirted its boundary.

Its treetops gave the impression of many coloured umbrellas, yet in different shades of green, whilst its branches dangled down to the muddy ground.

Two pairs of eyes panned horizontally, when something unexpectedly shredded the leaves before them. A whizzing noise whirred past Carter's left ear, soon followed by a clapping echo. Astonished, the pair hit the ground, leopard crawling towards the nearest umbrella tree. Within reach of its thick roots, another few bullets penetrated the air above them.

"I'm getting too old for this crap." Jack retorted winded.

Ignoring him, Sam frantically scanned the region from whence the sound travelled. "I can't see the shooter. Dammit, wish I had my binoculars."

"You don't need to see to know what's going on, Major." Sam heard the frustrated tone in his whisper, but said nothing in return. "It's quiet now, maybe we should high-tail it outta here."

No objection came from Sam, so they crawled out from underneath the branches and sprinted in the direction they had come by.

A few minutes later, Jack tugged at her arm, motioning to stop. "I think . . ." Took a deep breath before continuing, ". . . we're in the clear."

"Yes, Sir."

Coming to a halt, Jack regarded the Major, who was still gazing at the treeline behind him. Oh, he envied her, she appeared energetic, but he was bone tired. Placing his hands on his knees, body slightly doubled over, he waited for his breathing to normalize. Finally feeling like he could breathe with ease, he stretched out the kinks in his back, grimacing as he did so.

"What do ya think?" He asked.

"How the hell should I know? This is your conjectured world." She exclaimed rudely.

"Carter . . ." He warned, sternly glaring.

She shrugged an apology, swallowing her rashness. "I don't think Haran would've dropped us in the middle of a peat bog just so that we could walk into an execution."

"Let me get this straight." Jack paused as he thumbed over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "You're saying we're _scouts_ and what just happened back there, was us walking into enemy territory? That's nuts!"

"According to how you feel, Colonel, it's not the first time something like this has happened."

"Do my _feelings_ also tell you that I'm way past my expiration date, and that I have no energy for whatever this is?"

Carter cringed in reply. She knew exactly what was ensuing within his emotions, yet she did not know that he was suffering so physically. For him to admit it, was a clear tell-tale sign that he was literally running on fumes.

Across from her, the Colonel scowled, swallowing his frustration. "Okay, let's just say your insinuation's correct, which wouldn't be a surprise. We're outmanned, outgunned and we have no cover. We're then ultimately screwed. We don't even know why!"

Her eyes confirmed his statement and he reluctantly followed her gaze. She calmly stated, "Well, we're about to find out how screwed we are."

Sam grabbed him by the forearm, while he glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening in shock. "Oh sh…" She pulled him from his spot, just as the first sign of a russet coloured scouting party burst through the treeline, heading straight for them.

Jack and Sam's retreat took half the time it took them walking to the treeline; however, instead of silence, whirring bullets pursued them all the way back to where they had last sighted the door. When it failed to appear, they continued, heading north, slipping over wet moss, dodging hidden pools, and hurdling over rocks.

Jack was certain nothing situated in their current direction, but things had shifted around him once before. If Carter's assumption was correct (he really hoped she was), whoever it was that had supposedly sent them, would surely help. Or they were unfortunate to have trespassed upon an unknown battlefield. Then, they were only fleeing for their precious lives . . . in the wrong direction.

"Carter! WE should have fled to the west . . . along the treeline. We're only prolonging our capture."

"I know!" She shouted back.

Jack gazed behind him; assessing who had faithfully kept up – ten plus soldiers had followed and showed no signs of stopping. Cursing within, he reverted his attention to the Major, who was slightly to his left, when a slug tore through her leg and another through her left hip. She went down like a wounded gazelle, tumbling shoulder over heels in the peat.

She cried out in agony as fear rippled through him. Clearly, she had felt his distraught during the fall, but now she held her head as furious anger surged within him.

The Colonel turned on his heels, cocking his sidearm in the movement, retracted his forefinger on the trigger, wishing they had rather taken their chances in the swamp. However, they still would have met the same demise, still would have received the same welcoming committee.

Two soldiers went down as Jack stood firm in a side stance, aiming at whomever moved in the gun's crosshairs. Behind him, Sam groaned in pain, too paralysed to join him in his feat. He did not blame her, only blamed himself for being so negligent as a leader. Fatigue had clouded his mind, clogged his awareness, and had drained his sanity, making him irrational and careless.

He had failed to protect Carter – a thought that finally dissolved his resolve. After everything, this was what finally sunk his boat. He shouted a deep guttural shout, whilst advancing enemy soldiers fell to the ground.

His gun clicked empty giving way for the enemy to encircle them and he fell to his knees in defeat.

 _You're a goner, Jack O'Neill. It had to have ended at some point._

Whatever this scenario wanted from him, this was as far as he could go. As far as Carter could go. It was the end of the line, unless the designer decided they were to survive another environment. A statement he doubted; apparently, the leader had decided he was to feel severe pain for being Colonel Jack O'Neill.

Arabic words echoed in the _circle of death_ as he had dubbed it, while he slowly glanced over his shoulder down at the Major. She was writhing in pain struggling to contain both his and her own emotions and the added agony of the inflicted injuries.

A saddened wince etched his expression.

Carter had endured so much since arriving in his reality; it hurt immensely to think he was the reason for her misery.

 _It's all my fault. No! It's Har's fault. He's the one who's doing this to you, to Carter._

Squelchy footsteps approached, halted before him, and O'Neill broke eye contact with Sam to glare up at the smug smiling soldier.

A gunshot resonated from behind, and it felt like deafening electricity had jolted through his body. The groaning had seized with the bang, stopped completely.

Realization struck like a potent blow to his stomach.

Sam Carter was dead, and yet he was alive. Darkness consumed his mind as the thought repeated itself.


	14. Chapter 14 - A Fiery Spectacle

[05/09/2017]

 **Chapter Fourteen** **: A Fiery Spectacle**

"Welcome back, Samantha." Haran spoke with a gentle purr as he stood, gazing down at the Major.

Sam Carter's eyelids remained tightly shut. She tried to pull herself from the haze within her mind, yet she felt lost, confused, and for some reason, she felt a deep longing.

Footfalls echoed around the room as the clan leader circled her position, and then a sudden pitch jerked her awake, his clapping resonating in the room. It gently faded away as boots approached and he peered into her confused eyes.

"I must say, you played your part quite brilliantly." He stated chaffed.

"Colonel?" Carter's query came through gravelly, causing her to swallow a few times.

His broad smile fell, unsatisfied that she had failed to acknowledge him. "No, my dear, O'Neill's not here. However, I am . . . very satisfied with your progress. I have never seen your man so . . . distraught."

A light bulb exploded in her mind, and with it came clear comprehension. A thirty something soldier had stood over her, aiming his weapon at her head. The Colonel with his back to her, having clearly surrendered, had not noticed the movement. He had certainly heard the gunshot, heard her groaning disappear. In his mind, she was dead. Nevertheless, she was awake, alive, and well, still tied to the metal slab, and at Haran's mercy.

 _Oh no! Holy Hannah, that's bad. The Colonel thinks I'm dead. Not fake dead, really, really dead. Gone for good. Oh boy! He's been pushed over the brink. You know what that means Sam, that's just what Haran wanted._

"It is remarkable to see that once you plant a deceitful seed within someone's mind, how quickly it takes root. It subtly grows, wrapping its tendrils around their mind. It changes his or her perspective, blinding them from accepting another person's true view on the same journey. You can scream, present your findings, but ultimately, that person will remain steadfast in the lie. This, Samantha, is Deception at its finest form. Something you encountered within O'Neill's world."

"It's not a seed, Haran. It's a poison. Never in our years as a team together, has he questioned my credibility. Never."

Sam regarded the Colonel and sadness slowly cascaded through her soul. She refused to imagine what he was dealing with inside his mind.

"You've stripped him of something you care nothing about. You've stolen his will to live, his reason for being." She stated sad.

"Haa, I have waited for your confession, Major." Haran's eyes sparkled with recognition, yet within he was envious. He continued. "You care about him, would die for him, as he would for you. There is no question that you share a deep bond. No question you would go to extreme lengths for one another." His gaze flitted from the silent Major who had turned her head away from him, and gazed towards the monitors. "A bond shared by your team."

She ignored his candid statements, instead protested. "We've done nothing to deserve this. _He's_ done nothing to deserve this torture."

"You are mistaken. You are also mistaken that I see him as a warrior stronger than what I am, wrong that I loathe him. The Colonel was chosen, unwillingly, like my own, to endure an assortment of trials, testing his abilities, strengths, weaknesses, and mentality as a soldier and warrior. What good does it do to train your people in arenas such as you have seen, but they lack application? And when the Goa'uld come, they are powerless to defeat them. Therefore, we have this technology, pushing us to the brink so that we know no fear, no grieve and no weakness." He paused, eyes scanning the close up frame of O'Neill's facial expression. "In fact, I honour his integrity and vigour."

"I've seen enough to know the Goa'uld would destroy you before you even had the opportunity of displaying these profound skills. Assassins are the least of their problems."

Haran remained quiet, scrutinizing her demeanour.

Sam kept her eyes on the wall, away from him, away from O'Neill and away from the screens. She could not bear what was transpiring.

The warrior's words echoed in her mind a few times before her emotional state suddenly made sense. She was not lost or confused; she was not the one yearning. Jack experienced these things, and as his second-in-command, she was supposed to shout in anger, demanding his release, that the team be sent on their way. Instead, she wanted to weep a deep heartfelt cry, beg Haran to retract the Colonel so she could prove to him that she was alive, that the lie he believed was a ploy.

"Samantha, look how O'Neill endures your death." Haran said, jerking her from her thoughts. "His will has not been stolen as you claim. Look!"

His voice resounded carefully composed as his hand gently tilted her head towards the display. Her tear filled eyes observed the same close up frame of O'Neill's countenance.

Rage exploded in her ribcage, burned like a violent fire, whilst an overwhelming mixture of emotions danced like an eager wedding party. Sam stifled an angry moan, instead scrutinized Jack's demeanour with concerned intensity.

His chin rested upon his chest, while his hands balled up into fists. Tears streamed down his cheeks and the rhythm of his breathing gradually escalated. Recognizing his seething appearance, her fear, for the first time, instantly repressed Jack's. For instead of shock and grief, her death had turned him into a ferocious lion.

A faint breath slipped through her lips, drawing Haran's attention. Her response had elicited a bout of excitement, as he now had a peripheral view of the Major and the screens.

The Colonel had closed his eyes, face turning a dark shade of red. His body quaked with fury.

 _Good, it appears as if Jack has gone beyond his tolerance level. He's about to crack._

* * *

" _I would've rather died myself than lose Carter."_

The familiar confession burst through the darkness in Jack's mind like a flashlight's beam, and then everything else faded into a blur. It felt like he was breathing in his own sphere, and whatever surrounded him, simply had no meaning, his life included.

O'Neill's eyes suddenly opened, head snapping up to glare at the soldier before him. Rage boiled within and he used it as a propellant. He jettisoned his kneeling position, startling the soldier as he tackled him around the belly, lifted him off the ground as if a pillow, and hauled him for a few feet. He dropped him like a sack of rocks on his spine and proceeded to batter the soldier's ribcage with his right foot twice in procession. With his left foot, he kicked against the soldier's temple, earning a painful moan in reply and the sign of a blackout soon thereafter.

Behind him, soldiers peered in astonished, then faltered in their demeanour as they grabbed for their rifles. However, O'Neill snatched for and cocked the fallen warrior's sidearm in his turnabout. Pulled the trigger. Two soldiers, aligned with one another, fell to the ground like rag dolls as the bullet had penetrated through their chests.

A few warriors remained.

In his blind fury, O'Neill tossed the handgun at the approaching assailant, whilst he darted for the soldier to his left. The quick blow to his windpipe and the gun hitting the assailant's head echoed in accordance, triggering a devious smile on the Colonel's lips.

Shocked, the soldier gripped his throat with both hands, falling down to his rump disorientated, and tipped over onto his side, desperately gasping for breath. O'Neill casually seized the discarded rifle beside him, aimed, and fired one slug at his heart. Next, he targeted the assailant clutching his head positioned to his right. A loud bang resonated as the bullet tore through his chest, a brief groan following suit.

Jack's calm gaze sought after the three soldier's he knew had opted out and tilted in their direction. They had retreated towards the treeline and had covered twenty metres.

Inhaling deeply, he raised the rifle, placing the fleeing men in its crosshairs, and fired three slugs in succession. Upon his exhale, they fell like dead flies down amongst the peat.

Metres before him, the door leisurely materialized as if pleased with his vicious display, and without assessing the damage done, Jack walked forward unperturbed, rifle dangling from his right hand, cocky in swagger, demeanour as cold as ice and mind as blank as a page. The Minnesotan looked like a bounty hunter, undaunted as to what awaited; all that mattered was that he got the bastard who did this to him and Carter. There was no turning back, only moving forward.

Upon approach, O'Neill tilted his body into a side stance and kicked at the door. It flew off its hinges; spewing wood splinters in all directions, and without hesitation, he stepped through and disappeared into the unknown.

* * *

Sam stared at the black screens as the last few minutes spun in her mind.

She had seen Jack lose control before, but never like this. He had taken down eight soldiers as if they were nothing more than annoying mosquitoes.

A breath hitched in her throat as looming nausea tugged at her stomach. Bile lined her mouth and she swallowed hard, fighting back tears at the same time. Neither could she help the anxiety tightening in her chest.

Her equilibrium suddenly shifted as the clan leader tilted the metal slab, so that she had a proper view of the displays. This movement shattered her reverie and reminded her of her current predicament. She was still . . . stuck.

"Samantha, you perceive what your _death_ has done to him?" His satisfied tone echoed in the room, sending a shiver down her spine. He continued steadfast. "Killed eight of my men as if they were but hindrances. If only he'd remained composed, he would have seen your body along with theirs, disappear . . . into thin air. He's fuelled by rage, grief, impulsiveness . . ." He regarded the Major's stagnant appearance. She had clearly stopped listening. He came from behind and stepped into her view, placing his lips next to her right ear. He felt her shiver and this elicited a wry smile.

"You hide behind your military complexion." His soft words tickled her ear. "Keep yourself from enjoying pleasures, withdrawing into your beautiful mind as a means to distract yourself from what you cannot have." He positioned his forehead against hers, Sam tilting away, but his hand prevented the movement.

"Your need for Jack is impressive." She felt and smelled his breath and scowled a horrid scowl. This fuelled his discourse. "Desire to be with him. Yearning for his embrace, his love and soothing declarations. He knows you like no other, yet you deprive yourself the satisfaction of having him as your own. You are split between a man you hold dear and an impersonator who only fills the emptiness."

Revelling in her repulsion, Haran's lips moved towards her left ear, his whisper triggering a spell of gooseflesh. He coaxed tenderly.

"Impulsiveness _Samantha_ , you lack impulsiveness – the boldness to jump off the cliff into the river down below, the joy of dancing around the fire with those you care for without fear of consequences. Free, Samantha, freedom to be yourself. However, you are too afraid to explore uncharted waters, methodical – always following the rules like a well-trained warrior . . . when you should be leaping shamelessly into the arms of your lover whenever you see him."

His lips moved along her jawline until they halted before hers.

"Go on and taste it." He whispered. "Feel how exhilaration erupts within and triggers a spell of ecstasy. Do something . . . impulsive . . ." Her soft lips smothered the rest of his statement. "Reckless . . . thoughtless . . . spontaneous."

Carter eagerly caught the warrior's lips after each word until finally deepening the kiss. Haran was lost in euphoria, mind swimming in pleasure.

He had awaited the Major's submission and now tasted the aftermath with a mischievous delight. Their lips parted and he suddenly felt thwarted, and before he could reiterate the enjoyable activity, his skull exploded with pain as her forehead collided with his. Staggering back, his hands instantly covered his nose, whilst numb-like throbbing cobwebbed within his head.

"How's that impulsiveness treating ya, Haran? Agonizing enough?" Sam taunted.

Laughter emitted from his lips, as he replied, "I see O'Neill's mocking is not lost on you."

He lowered his hands, glad no blood poured from his bruised nose, but the joyous expression soon fell as he sighted the broad sardonic smile curling the Major's lips. She had used his seduction against him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

 _It was well worth it!_

His dark eyes drifted from Carter. "Michal, are you ready?"

The scientist's green eyes stared from the shadows, unaffected by the event. "Yes, Commander."

"Excellent! Two guards will watch over this fiery woman, while I meet with her companions."

Sam's smile disappeared at the mention, goring Haran with blazing eyes. "What?"

"Sadly, yes, I will have to leave you behind my beauty."

Her expression darkened, revealing her hatred.

Smiling wolfishly, Haran explained, "Your Daniel has requested my presence, an appointment I will gladly fulfil, whereas, you will have the pleasure of viewing your lover as he fulfils his next trial."

"You'll pay for this Haran."

Carter shouted after him as he exited the room, leaving her with two posted guards, Michal, and the screens displaying O'Neill's current position.

* * *

The moment the entrance vanished from view, the Colonel's world shifted into a stone walkway. The feel and its smell impersonating the first scenario, as a thin sheet of water filtered its way across the floor. To the left and right, garden vines like spider legs traversed their way up and over the twelve-foot walls.

It had an eerie ring to it, reminding Jack of the pyramid they had infiltrated in pursuit of the Russians. Yet, this appeared to be a maze, minus the flesh eating Goa'uld. He would really appreciate it, if this were just a straightforward puzzle to figure out, vacant of concealed traps and grotesque creatures, as he was in no mood to play Indiana Jones.

Involuntary gooseflesh trickled down his forearms, while his eyes combed the absent air above. It was void, unfilled, and pitch-black. There was no telling what awaited up there or what could make itself known.

He pushed the thought aside and rather focussed on the dimly lit passageway. Another anomaly. Where was the light coming from? Jack shrugged, stepped forward, rifle swinging towards his right shoulder, and rested it there, while his gaze panned the creepy crawly plant life – an observation that fared well to repress his actions of the previous setting.

The corridor reached a dead-end and exited into a horizontal one coming from the left. He turned in its direction, walking impassively for a while until it morphed into a corridor moving back towards the entrance. A slight scowl creased his forehead, but he kept going. This was a maze after all; there was no telling how it worked. Thankfully, it had remained a single corridor and not a few confusing corridors that would eventually turn into a dead-end. Then he would have to return to the starting point, not receive his two-hundred dollar reward, and begin again.

His feet stopped abruptly when he reached another barrier, forcing him into a parallel corridor extending from the right. What would happen if this passageway did eventually split into a few other corridors?

His mind struggled to focus on the task. It refused to strategize, just like his soul refused to accept the unemotional behaviour. He desired to surrender, to mourn for Carter's loss. However, he had manipulated himself into thinking that she had somehow survived, transported back to the room she had mentioned, irrespective of what Protector had said about dying in this world. He had to believe Major Carter was alive; otherwise, he would suffer dreadfully in order to keep up with this charade as melting into a heap would be the result.

He had to conquer this world, get to the man who did this, if it was the last thing, he did.

An exasperated sigh echoed in the vicinity, soon preceded by echoing footfalls, as he turned right. Walked a few paces before turning right again, and later left. O'Neill had progressed forward for ten minutes until a triangular corner stopped his trek. This time a diagonal passage met the vertical one from his eight o'clock.

It was the weirdest maze ever experienced, and pulled his mood down even more. It felt as if he was wearing a hefty garment, even the rifle resting against his shoulder felt like dead weight, and he let it slide down his arm until it dangled by his fingers. His steps slackened as his boots became like anchors instead of feathers, whilst the composed emotions slowly seeped through his raised barrier, insistent to break through.

Nevertheless, military discipline kept the threatening overflow in place, and his feet moved with determination, when suddenly he broke into a sprint, trying hard to escape both his swirling soul and the mindless puzzle. As he scurried down the maze, flesh, bone, and metal resounded against the barbed vines and rugged walls, until he rushed through the exit like a runner over the finishing line into a wide-open space.

The soles of his boots slide over the floor as he came to a hasty halt, outstretched hands keeping him from losing his balance. Jack found himself within the eye of the storm, which truly represented a twenty-by-twenty metre cement surface, walls lining its borders, while eight similar exits (or entrances) situated in random places within said walls.

His current location placed him to the north, while he knew the door located to the south.

Light, three times brighter than what the passageway provided, shone within the spacious room. If he recalled correctly, factory issued fluorescent bulbs were the reason for the display. The sharp glint, however, prevented him from confirming the opinion.

"Jonathan." The conceited call made his hair stand on end, especially due to its familiar tone.

 _Crap! That's Royal's voice._

Jack's hand fell from his forehead, lowered his chin from its elevated position down towards where the voice had spoken. Confusion quickly settled in as he observed the warrior who gracefully emerged from an opening not too far from the corridor he had come by.

"Royal? My, what unusual appearance you have." Humour dripped from the sarcastic statement, whilst he contained the urge to lash out at the intruder.

A throaty chuckle bounced off the walls, causing O'Neill to turn fully in his direction.

"You are quite the treat Colonel O'Neill." The intruder stated conceited.

Jack examined the visitor, eyes coming to rest on the man's head. "The hair's . . . _changed_. So's the clothing, beard, _scar_ . . . well it's like you've endured a complete makeover." His left hand gestured vaguely as he continued the mocking, "Quite the soldier, I see. Not the high and mighty arrogant little snob, who thought I would roll out the red carpet every time I saw him. Grown up all of a sudden, hey. Time goes by so fast." A sly smile quirked Jack's lips, enjoying the long-lost antagonizing he thrived on.

"I am Haran, just as I was Royal and just as I was the voice within the forest."

"Haran . . ." The familiar name rolled over his tongue. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and elicited a deep agonizing anger within his chest.

Furious brown eyes dipped from the warrior to the floor, and then slowly rose to meet the man's casual demeanour. If Jack's gaze could kill, the warrior would have died ten times over, without a finger lifted.

He had been waiting for this man, this warrior, suffered deceptive worlds to get to this time and place, and endured torturous truths so that he could find an end to this.

His hand tightened around the rifle's grip, while his left hand balled up into a fist. Heat travelled up his spine and spread over his torso, moved along his neck until it reached his ears. Muscles slightly trembled as his heart raced like a greyhound. The rage returned in its full glory, and it was by sheer self-control that prevented O'Neill from jettisoning his position.

"Why?" It was a low growl, its fierceness rebounding off the walls.

Haran replied nonchalantly, "It's straightforward actually." His lips quirked into a sardonic smile. "Only mending what's broken."

"Some mending bucko!" Jack exclaimed furious. "I've been torn asunder. No thanks to you . . . sick bastard."

His posture moved into defensive one, mimicking the stance of a bull ready to charge a matador. _Breaking his legs would be a joy, if only to make him suffer for this idiotic game._

"Now Jack, it is understandable that you see me as the enemy. I am far from it. More of a keeper than a killer."

The patronizing tone irritated the Colonel's rage even more, yet he kept it in check, casually replying with a wolfish smile.

"I don't care, _Haran_. A caretaker's just as guilty as the one in charge." His forefinger pointed at the warrior. "You my friend are both."

"Not as obtuse as you claim to be." Haran clapped appraisingly. "Well done!"

O'Neill raised the rifle in accordance, aiming for Haran's head, who stood untroubled smirking wickedly.

"Tell me what the hell is going on or the first bullet goes through your skull." Jack shouted.

"I would be careful if I were you." The warrior playfully warned. "What you do in here will make or break your escape."

A thunderclap resounded in the arena, preceded by a bullet piercing the wall behind him. Haran slowly tilted his head so, gazing at the hole, and then looked at the Colonel. His stance was strong, and expression thunderous.

"It is not up to me Jack, unfortunately, but to _Alfahis_ – whether you will remain or leave this place."

"I said explain not lecture in riddles." Jack stated lividly, lowering his weapon. "Get to the point dammit!" He called out irritated.

" _Alfahis_ translated into your language means Assayer – a technology that is set on knowing and testing your way through various trials." Haran explained coolly.

" _Okay_ . . . how so?" Jack asked incredulous.

"When you stepped through the Gate, it scanned your team, and determined that you and your Major had the same kind of brokenness. It fashioned a baited trap, shaping a setting according to the interests of your companions both individually and collectively. Once you accepted the false information, it lured you in to what you call a _virtual reality_ , when it is really an _Alttariq 'iilaa Aiktishaf_."

O'Neill processed the information, expression flinching as his mind cited Carter's name. He concentrated on the Arabic sentence instead, commanding gruffly, "Translate."

"The Pathway to Discovery." Came the simple reply.

"Discovery to what? I've been subjected to turmoil – that's not . . ." Jack stopped, realization dawning. "Wait, what _brokenness_? What do I have in common with . . ." A pained expression creased his facial features as he swallowed the discomfort. "Major Carter? And why did I get the short end of the stick?"

Haran's brow furrowed as he tried to decipher the last question. He was unfamiliar with the saying. Ignoring it, he simply replied, "You and Samantha." Her name melted in his mouth, and Jack quickly noted the pleasure in his tone. Neither did he miss the satisfied smile on the Arab's lips. "You both have experienced loss."

"So what? Name one person who hasn't. It's nothing new."

"True. Yet, how many individuals have a mutual heartache and a yearning love for one another?" He paused briefly, and then added as an afterthought, "You do not seem to converse about this in public nor do you so secretly."

Surprise lined Jack's expression, and he replied, "That's why I had to endure this hell, because we care about one another like friends and colleagues do? 'Cause we've both lost a loved one? This is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. I think your machine is broken, Harry."

"Haran." He corrected arrogantly.

"Whatever." Jack replied dismissively. "Do you know what I really think of this business?" His eyebrow raised in question, the warrior tilting his head in anticipation. "You're a coward. Your entire race just a bunch of chickens, hiding behind a simulation instead of standing your ground like real warriors. No better than those egocentric, over-the-top, pompous Gould's. Hypocrites . . ."

"No!" The shout exploded in anger, startling the Colonel.

Then his expression morphed into satisfaction, for his patience had been rewarded, as he had finally found the man's triggering point. Across from him, the warrior calmed down, his wicked smile returning in full vigour.

"Everyone suffers flaws; _Alfahis_ perfects them, helping individuals discover what they're capable of by forcing them to face their worst nightmares. You emerge stronger. Mentally and emotionally established. Not intermittent or feeble, yet capable of confronting a seemingly unsurmountable challenge without fearing it."

"You'll make a good salesperson. I almost bought your act Steve."

"Haran!" The warrior shouted in cold anger. "Get it through your thick skull."

The warrior turned a light shade of red, his scar appearing as if a candle's flame, while Jack's devious smile grew in size, genuinely enjoying the exchange.

The former not so much as he revealed his fist with thumb raised, and recited. "Fear of being alone; not being in control; fear of death, of surrendering; love, vulnerability and loss; lack of trust; fear of losing your sanity." His six fingers raised to emphasize the main mentioned issues. "These are the things you fear the most. The same ones you endured in the world of your making."

The Colonel glared at Haran, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. The information relayed struck a chord in his mind and regretfully had to agree that it was the truth. _No way am I telling this smug bastard._ "So I take it, you're the last _fear?_ "

"You are nothing but predictable, O'Neill. As they say, you are what you think."

Silence enveloped the arena as the two soldiers stared at one another, until Haran's expression gradually morphed into a mysterious wryness.

"How did it feel to lose the woman you loved?"

"Stop . . . right there!" A furious outburst Haran simply ignored.

"It must be eating you alive Jack – you failed to protect Samantha. She died in your negligence. The little I have spent with her – even I am devastated." His eyes closed as he pictured Carter in his mind. Knowing it infuriated the Colonel, he spoke teasingly, "Her beauty, intelligence, fiery spirit." A Cheshire smile curled his lips. "Aah, her succulent lips." His eyes opened and gaze levelled with the fuming soldier. "Who in their right mind could forget those?"

Jack's mind and emotions shut down systematically, as he permitted blinding fury to consume him. He acted like a Skynet Terminator, rifle clunking on the stone floor as he rushed for the gloating Arab who had been goading him for this very reaction. A cliché standoff between opposing soldiers, when it should have had entailed Jack's unjust treatment, something that mimicked surviving the lion's den, and not about _the_ Samantha Carter.


	15. Chapter 15 - Traditions Still Prevails

[05/09/2017]

 **Chapter Fifteen** **: Some Traditions Still Prevail**

Daniel approached the sparring mat as Teal'c grabbed the fallen warrior. Once satisfied with the warrior's well-being, the Jaffa bowed his head in thanks and walked over to the archaeologist. A concerned expression instantly triggered a raised eyebrow on Teal'c's facial features, questioning the Doctor's bothersome demeanour.

Daniel stepped closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Teal'c. His blue eyes observed the next sparring match, whilst the Jaffa gazed at the market place.

"How long do we need to keep this up for before Haran responds?"

"Not long, for he approaches."

The archaeologist spun around, scrutinizing the advancing Haran and his men.

"Dr Jackson. Teal'c."

The Arab called out, hands extended towards them. A bright smile lined his lips.

"I see you have made yourself at home, going as far as to sway my men into showing you our skills. I hope they are still in one piece, since your Jaffa friend here has quite the reputation."

Daniel pretended to be charmed, smiling in return as he replied. "Haran, glad you could finally grace us with your presence." His smile fell and turned deadpan. He got straight to the point. "Where's Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter?"

"I am afraid they are busy at the moment."

"Haran." A forced sigh slipped through his lips, sternly gazing at the smirking leader. "I'll be honest with you, we know we're not guests and we don't take well to being held against our will."

"I beg to differ. I have given you the freedom to roam about my facility, study our culture, and join in on the fighting. I should say you are very well treated."

"Yet, you refuse to take us to our teammates. That's confinement Haran, not freedom."

"I have heard what is on your mind and have to insist that your stay, unfortunately, is permanent. A request agreed upon by your Colonel and Major. If you wish to further express your misgivings, I will be forced to show you what confinement is." Haran declared haughtily.

Behind Daniel and Teal'c, the men on the sparring mat discontinued their practice and joined the SG1 members, gazes scrutinizing.

Sighting the commotion, Sharif, the clan's second-in-command, silently emerged from the main tent, and walked towards the conversing men. He stood behind his Commander who was engrossed by the archaeologist.

"Okay, we definitely have a conflict with _that_ statement."

Daniel glanced the Jaffa beside him, felt his presence move from his position and slightly towards Haran, who stood unflustered, ten feet away.

"There's no way in hell that Jack and Sam would agree to sucha preposterous request. In fact, if they knew what you were planning on doing with us, they would have shot you by now."

The leader remained silent, smile not wavering, yet unknowingly permitting the archaeologist to goad him.

"Where we come from, our team is deemed as important, which means, our leader will not stop until every rock on your planet has been overturned. Now it appears you know who we are and what has transpired since our arrival via the Ring. Then, you should know this to be true. No?" An inquisitive brow quirked with his question, while a small sneer curled his lips.

"I do, Dr Jackson. However, would you look a gift horse in the mouth? It is our way to welcome guests into our clan. Make them comfortable, and integrate them into our family." Haran paused briefly, his hands show casing the facility. "Whatever is yours is mine." He lowered them, his gaze now boring the archaeologist. "Would you dishonour this code, because your friends have received a different welcoming? You would dare insult our way of life. You leader can send his men, you will be dead before they reach the canyon."

The archaeologist smiled deviously, ignoring the arrogant threat.

They had been waiting patiently for the Arab to mention his honour code. However advanced they may be, old Bedouin traditions still held prominence in this clan and this was a good thing for SG1.

"What do you think Teal'c?" Daniel asked head tilted in the Jaffa's direction.

The warrior acknowledged his friend, and then his gaze slowly panned towards Haran, expression stoic, eyes blazing, "I believe Bedu tradition runs thick in his blood."

"Speaking of which . . ." Jackson nodded at Sharif, who grabbed Haran's biceps, forcing his arms into a lock behind his back.

"What is this?" Haran hissed furiously, fighting against the hold.

"Oh, we did more than just _sway_ your men, Haran. We listened intently, especially when they mentioned why you have such a keen interest in Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill. Seems you have a little business on the side with the System Lord Ba'al, facilitating assassins on his behalf, in exchange for capture of SG teams and those who _dare_ to defy him. Apparently, SG1 hits the top of the list, which is only natural. We've ticked off a lot of Goa'ulds to receive sucha esteemed honour."

Daniel smiled his famous _I gotcha_ smile and waited forbearingly for the leader to defend himself. The Arab remained surprisingly quiet, scowling dangerously.

"I don't know what you've told our friends, but we know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but _the truth_. _Alfahis_ exists, a machine that shapes and forms your planet to your liking. Deceptive little bugger, I must say. In addition, this Assayer also provides you with a virtual world where its analysis is very real; I believe we'll hear that soon enough from the Colonel – whom you've placed on various trials to forestall our attempt of escape. We also know this is how you train Ba'als assassin soldiers. Most importantly, we know that Sharif and _your_ _clan_ want no dealing in your business."

Daniel gazed at Sharif, who nodded in confirmation.

"He has agreed to respect one of your most sacred traditions, _Light of Blood_." Haran's eyes bulged in shock, for he understood its significance. Teal'c and Daniel smiled deviously. ". . . It will grant us passage to the Ring and get us away from Ba'al's monthly supply run; whose First Prime will reach your planet . . . by the end of the day."

Inserting his hands into his pants pockets, Dr Jackson's appearance reflected cockiness, the same kind of behaviour Haran had projected when they had first met.

The Arab writhed in Sharif's hold squirming like a mouse. Daniel, revelling in their success spoke, "Teal'c if you could . . ."

"Indeed." The Jaffa stepped forward, accepting a dagger from a nearby guard, whilst Sharif forced Haran's right hand to comply. He extended it towards Teal'c, who grabbed the resistant hand and cut the leader's palm. A hiss slipped through the Arab's lips as blood seeped from the wound.

The two warriors that flanked the archaeologist stepped around and secured Haran, freeing Sharif to use the leader's left hand to cut his own palm. He winced at the action and then proceeded to grab his leader's injured hand.

The two Bedu warriors watched as their blood mixed and dropped to the ground, and then Haran realized what was to ensue. He had to prevent his Captain from speaking, buy enough time for his replica to accomplish the final trial within Assayer.

"Colonel O'Neill's yet to complete his . . ."

"Save it Harry." Jackson shook his head. "Nothing will happen with Jack and Sam when we retrieve them. Your days of playing games are over." He stepped towards the warriors, their hands still in a vice grip. "Sharif, if you could please?"

He nodded in reply, amber eyes sternly gazing at his Commander.

"Our men witnessed my infliction by your hand Haran, and therefore according to law, I am entitled to take blood for blood; eye for eye; life for life. However, your proposed death is now on my head, paid for by my own blood. In this way, I offer mercy to you my brother. We are equals, yet due to my following, I have majority over everything that is Bedouin. Thus, you will surrender yourself and your men over to Ba'al. You will convince him that our clan no longer exists, _Alfahis_ destroyed, and that you are the only survivors come to offer the last of your kind as servants."

"You know that will not work. He will send his Jaffa to see if this is true. _Alfahis_ will scan them and reveal our hiding place."

"Michal disagrees. He knows _Alfahis_ , how to prevent it from scanning them. In fact, he will program it to remove the canyon, shaping this valley into a different world. His Jaffa will come through the Ring and meet an environment so deceptive; they will turn back to their god."

Sharif let go of his hand.

Haran processed the information; he was so sure he had the upper hand. A coup had brewed under his nose without his knowledge and SG1 came and exploited it, worked it in their favour in order to free their people. It was clear that he had underestimated them, and his clan's alliance.

In the background, Sharif ordered, "Take him, gather his followers, and escort them to the Ring."

"Yes, Commander."

Haran cursed under his breath as the guards turned him away and led him in the direction of the horse stalls. His mind refusing to accept defeat, his thoughts spun in circles. Ba'al would have accepted his accomplishment, honoured their deal, and his warriors would have lived in peace. However, Sharif had planned it in such a manner that Bedu still lived on; dead to the world, but living peaceful lives they had sought after for hundreds of years.

Daniel and Teal'c gazed after the retreating figures, the Doctor asking, "Uh, Sharif, as thankful as we are, do you think it wise to send him away? He has been your leader for a long time, has intimate knowledge of your home. Wouldn't he betray you the moment Ba'al questioned his credibility?"

"Haran's too proud Dr Jackson, he will rather face his master than be disgraced. Furthermore, he's bound by blood. Even if he considered such a ploy, the bond we now share will prevent him from betraying me. Whether he breaks his promise or not, he will face death – his pride will see to it."

Smiling gently, Sharif gestured towards the entrance situated between the main tent and the market place. "As promised, let me take you to O'Neill and Samantha Carter. I am certain they will be relieved to see you."

"Thank you, Sharif, for everything. We couldn't have . . ." Daniel paused as a hand forestalled him.

"None of that Dr Jackson, it is I that should be thanking you. We are forever in your debt."

"Yes, ask Teal'c, we're known for our timing." He smiled sincerely. The Jaffa replied, "Indeed we are."


	16. Chapter 16 - The Real World

[Updated 06/09/2017]

 **Chapter Sixteen** **: The Real World**

Closing the gap, O'Neill charged like a raging bull, growl climbing until it rang in his ears, when inches away, Haran disappeared into thin air, and O'Neill's feet swept away underneath him, brusquely hauled in the opposite direction at a break-neck speed.

He grabbed frantically at the floor not liking his current predicament, but the drawing continued as if another magnet awaited his presence on the other side. His clothes tore on the rutted surface, sharp edges cut at his extended hands, while his elbows and knees skidded over knocks and jagged stone, blood instantly seeping through torn material.

A terrifying scream resonated at a high pitch within the maze as O'Neill fought against the vacuum pull. His throat burnt with the effort, until his shouting stopped, and his feet lifted off the ground, followed by his knees, torso, and finally his head. Up into the void above he rose, eyes expanding as he realized what was taking place.

The maze drifted away, sucked inward, whilst the darkness drew him like an object fighting a gravitational pull in to a tunnel. He drifted for a short while and lost perception.

Jack O'Neill jerked wide-awake. The world around him came through obscure, white, and black. He screamed furiously, startling the occupants in the room, as he tried to move, but fastenings kept him securely in place. He suddenly felt the cold sensation of a slab against his head, spine, and then he thrashed about violently.

"No! No! Get back here Haran! You bastard! C'mon and face me! Let's finish this like men. Let me kill you! I swear I'll kill you! Coward!"

Breathing laboured, he continued flailing, desperate for freedom to go after the Arab. Foul curses came in random intervals until Daniel could take it no longer.

"Jack!" He shouted over the noise, however, O'Neill kept up with the feat. "Jack! Snap out of it!"

The Colonel stopped abruptly, distant brown eyes frantically scanning the room. Before him, stood Daniel and Teal'c looking on as if he had gone mad, concern laced their expressions, while he scowled in confusion.

"Danny?" He asked voice thin, sore from the shouting. Unnerved eyes gawked at the archaeologist. "Daniel! Help me, please. Where's Haran? I-I-I need to find him."

Daniel stared with a blank expression at a loss for words, so Teal'c answered in his stead, "I am sorry O'Neill we were advised against it."

"T? Please buddy. Help me! I need to find him. Kill him. Just let me kill him." Jack pleaded desperately, tears welling in his eyes. "You've done it before – tasted revenge. Please allow me it this once."

Behind him, Major Carter gestured for the men to leave, to give them some privacy. Both looked at her and then complied. Ignorant, Jack still pleaded with the Jaffa.

"No! Don't go. Stay; help me. We can do it together. Please don't leave me."

The sound of a door shutting tight resonated in the room. He was alone once again, fighting against the restraints.

"Colonel." The soft familiar tone slithered through his body, halted his useless struggle as his eyes combed the area in search of the voice.

Major Carter silently came about, staying in the shadows until she stagnated across from him, observed how his eyes squinted, and then stepped into the light, gaze fixed on his sorrowed filled expression. She was expecting confusion, surprise even, but it appeared as if he looked straight through her, treating her existence as if she was not there, could not be there. For in his mind, she was dead and only viewed her as a hallucination, perhaps what he had thought about his teammates earlier.

"Sam?" His croak made her wince, her name even more so. The Colonel rarely used her birth name. "I-Is it you?"

"Yes Sir." She nodded with the reply, stepped forward until she forestalled inches away from his position. "It's really me." She whispered gently.

Jack stared at her in disbelief, not knowing if he should trust his sanity. "I-I-I heard the gun go off. You were dead." His brow furrowed. He quickly broke eye contact.

"Only in your mind Colonel. I've been here all along, watching, wishing I could disconnect you." A small smile lingered on her lips.

Haran's previous conversation mulled, repeating the word _impulsiveness_ in a seemingly endless loop. Up until the point where she responded, gently cupping the Colonel's face in her hands. Carter tenderly tilted it towards her gaze, while placing her forehead against his, reassuring that she was there, and that she was not just a figment of his imagination. She sensed how his breathing slowed, her fingers feeling the warmth of his fresh tears trickling down. She was relieved that she no longer felt his pain, as his disconnection had severed the link they had shared. Nevertheless, she knew from experience how he felt.

A minute or so went by as they stayed in the soothing position, when Sam felt his jaw tighten underneath her fingers and instantly discerned what was about to ensue.

"Sam, why am I tied up like Frankenstein?" He asked frustrated.

Carter let go, stepped back, swallowing nervously as she did so. His eyes flared in anger, expression dark as he revealed his dislike.

"Ah . . . well." She swallowed nervously, surprised she still had spittle, for her mouth suddenly felt dry. "You see . . . uh . . ."

"Spit it out Major and while you're at it. Untie me; my back's killing me." His frustrated tone made her flinch. "That's an order!" He exclaimed sternly, pulling at the restraints. "Now!" Heat spanned around his neck with the shout.

"I can't do that, Sir." Sam reflected his stern gaze. "The resident technician and scientist Michal said it's for your own good. You need to hold out just for a little while longer."

"You would ignore a direct order . . . from your Commanding Officer?" Jack questioned angry.

Carter gave him a reluctant nod of confirmation, hating every bit of it. "Michal has a proposition, Colonel."

"Has he now?" Jack spat mockingly, enjoying her wince. "If it has to do with making this crap disappear . . ."

Her brow furrowed, head tilting in surprise. "Actually, it does."

"Lucky guess." He smiled deviously – for once, he had anticipated her train of thought and absorbed it like an excited schoolboy, whereas Carter gazed on in annoyance.

His expression changed to concerned in the blink of an eye, eyes softening. It disarmed her, not to mention his kind voice.

"What about you? Is it only for me? I don't want you to remember what I've put you through. Heck! I don't want to remember either, but if it's only for me, I-I I'll take a rain check." Sam remained tight-lipped, O'Neill's brow furrowing.

"What's wrong? Did I upset you? Are you still sensing my emotions? Dang, I'm sorry Sam."

He reacted without thinking, wanting to move towards her in need to console. A curse slipped through his lips as he realized his position.

"Dammit! Why can't you let me go? This is bullshit! C'mon Carter, do me a favour will ya?" His head snapped up from where he was gazing at the fastenings, whilst his eyes blazed in anger. "I order you to release me."

Sam gaped like a fish. The Colonel was irrational, irregular in his behaviour, and evidently confused. The light refused to shine within his mind, but his emotions churned relentlessly causing him to flit between reactions as if a child.

"Major!" His shout startled her; she imagined how the rage burned within him. "When we get back to the S.G.C, I'll court martial you for this insubordination, see to it that you're dishonourably discharged, never to work in any field of expertise ever again. You hear me?"

The Major's military veneer snapped and she threw caution to the wind. "With all due respect, Sir, your brain has suffered an advanced form of trauma. They souped you up with a drug that heightened your senses, causing them to go into overdrive. Your physical body is struggling to adjust to what you've experienced within the virtual reality. Emotionally you're unstable, your mind's basically a mush. You need time to recuperate, allow the drugs to fade from your system. That's why you're tied up, so you don't harm anyone, especially yourself."

Jack shook his head vigorously refusing to accept her reasoning. "No, no, no, I don't believe you. You're preventing me from killing that bastard Haran. You're stalling. Why? You took a liking to him, didn't ya? Just like Narim, Marty . . . _Pete_. What? You couldn't have me so you went after Haran instead?"

Sam reacted as if she had been stung two times over, tears welling in her eyes, which she closed, while placing her hand before trembling lips. Regardless of the confession, it was a cruel, low blow. Michal's proposition to forget, suddenly seemed alluring; anything to remove the Colonel's erratic behaviour from memory.

She stepped back a few paces hiding her countenance from the Colonel who kept throwing wild accusations at her, and then exited through the door. Leaning her back against it, she exhaled a shaky breath calming her trembling lips, wiped at the welling tears, and closed her eyes.

The Major felt shattered, fragile, ill-equipped to be sucked into a world where she could not help but experience suffering in an overwhelming way, and she had barely endured two scenarios, whereas Jack had faced a cacophony of thoughts, emotions, and encounters. And had confronted it all with a powerful drug that had turned him inside out. He had been a wild animal in a simulated world.

Now, Jack was but a child, too emotionally immature to control his outbursts, thoughtless, irrational, and undisciplined – the opposite of who Colonel O'Neill was. He may be irreverent at times, yet he knew how to discern when to act, react and when not to. He had his weaknesses, which only made him human just like the rest of SG1.

"Do not fret Major Carter." Teal'c's voice startled Sam, head snapping in his direction, while her eyes revealed sudden surprise.

The smirking Jaffa continued as his eyes gazed through the observation window. "O'Neill will conquer this like he did Ba'al's torture. We need not worry."

She nodded her confirmation, gaze scanning the rest of the room. "Where's Danny?"

"Sharif called for him."

"This the man we should be grateful for?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed, but that is not of importance Major Carter. You are at a crossroad."

" _Okay_." She replied sceptically, tilting her head in scrutiny. The Jaffa was definitely up to something.

"Personally, I would not accept Michal's proposition. It would defeat the purpose of _Alfahis_. Furthermore, if I understand correctly, the memories will be removed, yet not the emotional or physical pain inflicted by the machine. His mind will fight for answers, which none but you can help him with."

"Yes, it was described to be like someone who has amnesia, and frankly, Teal'c, it's not up to you. I experienced part of his world, underwent what he did. It's not something you would want to remember, especially with our . . ."

Sam hesitated, swallowing the knot in her throat. Teal'c raised his eyebrow, acknowledging the soldiers' secret care for one another. She continued. ". . . I can guarantee you, once he's fully lucid, shame and guilt will eat him alive. I should know, it's already tearing at me, especially due to what might happen once we arrive at Stargate Command, and then inform General Hammond. We were pinned against one another. The Colonel nearly killed me, and I am not so sure we'll have a job when this gets out."

Sam cringed as the images of the forest came to mind, and shook her head in retort.

"I understand your predicament Major, and the rules of your military, quite clearly. Therefore, I think we should ask Michal if only certain memories can be erased, and not all. Since, you already deal with your care for one another on a daily basis; it should not cause a problem with your superiors. SG1 in general has some exception, do we not Major Carter?"

A smug smile curled his lips, for the Jaffa knew he had given them an escape. A way to keep what had happened within the world a secret without thinking about the consequences. It was a white flag, so to speak.

The atmosphere suddenly felt thick, and swiftly turned awkward, so Sam stepped away from the door and towards the window.

"Uhm, yes T, that would be an excellent question."

She gladly changed the subject with a few raps on the glass. Michal's head snapped up from the console. Poor man had to deal with O'Neill's drugged state, something he had apparently witnessed many times before. He gazed with a questioning expression, curtly nodding his chin as Sam beckoned him into the room.

They were about to hear if Teal'c's suggestion could be implicated. Something Carter desperately wished was available as she was uncomfortable confronting her boyfriend when all was _said and done_ at the debriefing. Nor would she enjoy facing Jack O'Neill in his current state or afterward for that matter. She had practically been in his shoes throughout the whole ordeal, and it was not a memory worth reliving.

The door opened with a soft click and Michal entered the room, facial expression revealing his expectancy. Carter met him with a curt nod, she was ready to let go and move on as if nothing had ever happened.


	17. Chapter 17 - FINIS

[Updated 06/09/2017]

 **Chapter Seventeen** **: Finis**

"So there I was amidst a misty forest, this ghoulish voice taunting me, and all I could think about was Red Riding Hood. Of all the characters I could have recalled, she was the one that terrorized me."

"Oh, you poor man." Daniel quipped from the Colonel's left, earning a dark glare as reply. Unfazed, he continued, "So I suppose the voice was the big bad wolf."

"Could have been the woodsman. He may have saved the girl and the granny, but he still had the means to . . ." A wicked smile curled his lips as Jack mimicked a knife to his throat.

"That's just wrong Sir." Carter replied in disgust.

"I still don't understand your children's stories." Teal'c said. "On Chulak, the tales are real, as are the heroes. Not fabricated, mythical fables."

"He has a point." Sam agreed.

"Oh, be quiet you." O'Neill waved dismissively. Carter smirked. "Of course you agree with him. Your definition of fun consists of scientific doohickeys and unsolvable calculations."

"I'll have you know that I experienced a childhood too."

"You mean you didn't just rock up from an alternative universe?"

Jack schooled a mock stunned expression, causing Sam to chortle in reply.

Daniel shared a look with the Jaffa. Gradually, the men lagged in pace allowing the chatting soldiers to move ahead on the path.

"They don't remember, right?" Jackson asked once they were out of hearing range.

"Indeed, they are oblivious to what occurred between them."

"That's good . . . I think." He supplied with an incredulous expression.

"Do not worry Daniel Jackson. Michal assured the memories wiped would not return. It only lingers within their emotions."

"Guess no harm could come from it. But still. Jack's not acting like someone who's faced hell."

"This is O'Neill. He will confront this mission in his own fashion – alone, and in the recesses of his mind."

"Yeah, let's just hope it doesn't come back to bite us . . . in the, you know what."

Teal'c observed the chuckling duo who was oblivious to the vulnerabilities they had encountered together. "We will know once _the feline is out of the bag_."

Daniel stopped, and like a gaping fish stared after the Jaffa. "Did you just?" He called, jogging to keep up with his stride.

"I did Doctor Jackson." A sly smile quirked the Jaffa's lips.

Up ahead, the soldiers glanced over their shoulders, lost as to what had transpired between the two men. Although by Teal'c's shrewd expression, Jack knew what he had done.

"He just floored you, didn't he Danny boy?"

"You could say that." Jackson glared at the Jaffa to his right, both joining Carter and Jack.

The team unknowingly passed the dais and inscriptions, which had disappeared the moment they had entered the canyon. It was as if nothing had occurred on the planet, and the team was immensely grateful for it.

"Aah, he has his moments." Jack replied proudly.

He had taken the far left position in their horizontal line. Carter situated to his right, followed by Teal'c, and then by Daniel.

"Well, he has the element of surprise mastered to a tee."

Smiling slyly, O'Neill acknowledged the Major's double saying. "Nice Carter. Two strikes in one go."

"I'm sorry, when did this turn into an idiom match?"

Daniel leaned forward peering past the Jaffa at Jack, brow furrowing.

"Since time immemorial."

Jack scowled at Sam's reply, but then his countenance changed into a smug expression. He too could play this game.

"When one's back is turned." The Colonel cunningly referred to the men's secretive conversation.

"You should quit while you're ahead." Daniel playfully warned. "Otherwise, you'll be caught unawares. Or was that caught off-balance? Sorry, my head's in the clouds."

"The plot thickens Major. Should we stir it, see what happens?" Jack's eyes squinted in her direction.

"I don't know Colonel. We could be opening a can of worms instead."

"Jack stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. "A . . . can of worms Carter? Seriously, that's the best you can come up with?"

"Child's play, hey Jack?"

A snicker slipped through Daniel's lips, whilst Teal'c scowled at his teammates in confusion. Evidently, he had not understood the wordplay.

"Don't you start." O'Neill pointed his finger in the archaeologist's direction nearly poking Carter's eye out. Thankfully, she had anticipated the onslaught coming her way, and slowed down with a step.

"I haven't yet." Jackson said, and then gestured at the Major. "And it's not my fault you chose Sam as a co-conspirator."

"Hey!" Carter exclaimed slightly taken aback by the fierce gesture and accusation, whilst Jack spat, "Look who's talking, says the one who has Teal'c as an accomplice. Talk about a disadvantage."

"If this were a sparring match, you would be eating dirt O'Neill."

Teal'c's expression was deadpan, Daniel and Sam smiling sardonically. Jack glared dangerously.

"Seems the fat lady has sung." Carter quipped softly, yet O'Neill heard enough to turn his glare upon her, and her expression swiftly mimicked a rebuked kid.

"I'm not familiar with that saying." Teal'c said innocently, ignoring the exchange.

"It means we're done expressing and should tiptoe our way back to the Gate."

The Jaffa raised an eyebrow, scowling in disagreement. "That would be most unwise, Daniel Jackson."

O'Neill added from the side, "Talk softly, carry a big stick, is what the geek meant, T."

"Then I will do so." The Jaffa nodded, gaze resolute before him.

"Wait." Daniel retorted surprised. "That you understood? It's basically a historic saying, as in, an important piece of American history."

"Theodore Roosevelt I believe." Teal'c squared his jaw in satisfaction.

"That's a _bottle rocket_! The crowd goes wild." Jack playfully mocked.

"To the _gate_ with you, Jack." Daniel exclaimed with a stern glare indicating in its direction.

"You just got _Jersied_ and you're sending me to the _sin bin_?" He sulked. "No fair, sucha _bender_."

"Hey look!" Sam interrupted drawing their attention for a moment. "The DHD. Maybe you should discuss hockey later."

Silence engulfed the team for a while as Jack stared at the Major in disbelief. "Okay, now I'm floored. You know ice hockey lingo?"

"Not just a smart cookie Colonel." Carter stated teasingly.

"Oh, that's _the biscuit in the basket_." His hands mirrored that of a hockey player's, and hit the imagined puck along the ice.

"Why would O'Neill . . ."

Daniel anticipated Teal'c's question and quickly explained, "In hockey lingo, it means she's just scored. Baseball would be a homerun, and in American Football it's known as a touchdown."

"She has won the contest?" His brow furrowed with the question.

"Yeah, suppose so." Came Daniel's deflated reply.

"Are they not on the same team?" Teal'c inquired further.

"Yes, we are T." Jack interjected with a wry smile curling his lips. "Greatness should be rewarded regardless of the team you play for."

Major Carter stifled a laugh as she approached the Dial-Home-Device and punched in earth's address. The three men continued with a light conversation, Jack sneaking a peek in between pauses.

Something had changed between them, a thought that was false, because he had been the only team member within the virtual world. Somehow his emotions portrayed differently – there was a sense of personal respect, compassion, and hurt. This confused the Colonel, how had he hurt her? Haran did, whom he had heard Teal'c and Daniel outwitted, uncovering a secret trade with Ba'al. It was a major problem, and thus they had stirred a brewing coup in order to save SG1. He could not have been more proud of them.

The Gate sprang to life beckoning the men to join the Major. Daniel and Teal'c stepped through first, leaving the two soldiers behind. On cue, they turned towards each other, Jack bearing a considerate expression as he regarded her. Surprisingly enough, she allowed it.

"You okay?" O'Neill asked softly.

Sam swallowed back the lurking anxiety caught in her throat. "I am. Only bummed that I couldn't get my hands on their technology. Just think, once we step through the Gate, this desert will disappear, and what might replace it, is a lavish landscape with a lake full of fish."

Her eyes sparkled with humour.

"Funny." Jack smiled amusingly, acknowledging her reference of his cabin and pond back in Minnesota. "Yeah, would be a cool toy to have, excluding the virtual thingie of course."

Both their expressions fell, aware of what he had endured there.

"Any who," Jack gladly changed the subject, smile back in full as his left palm gestured at the active Gate. "After you, Major, we shouldn't keep the ol' Génerál waiting."

"Thank you Colonel." Sam replied with a respectful nod and took the lead.

O'Neill fell in with her stride, and before they stepped through the event horizon, mockingly quipped, "So, hockey Carter."

Sam smiled brightly in retort, ignoring his prying as they vanished into the wormhole.

On PM6-324, dark clouds crept across the blue sky, while the surface of the planet slowly but surely morphed, shaped, and altered into that of a Tundra landscape, hiding what once was a desert with a canyon and assassins named Bedu – as if they had never even existed.

Unseen but not forgotten.

 **VIRTUALIS MUNDI**

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading Virtual World, uncovering its mystery, and staying until the end. I hope you enjoyed it. I also appreciate the feedback from those who had reviewed, many thanks.

Have an awesome, lovely week and month further.

Cheers, lezaanv


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